The Bite of the Cobra (Season 4, Episodes 6, 7 and 8)
by bionic4ever
Summary: COMPLETE! (Season 4, Episode 6, 7 and 8) My 2012 NaNoWriMo novel. Cobra's plan is finally about to become reality. What will Nemesis do to Jaime and Steve if he gets his hands on them? And what is happening to Russ...and to Rudy? Thank you to the members of The Bionic Project for their input and support! See my profile for a link and stop by for a visit!
1. Prologue

**The Bite of the Cobra**- Season 4, Episodes 6, 7 and 8

Prologue

Those Washington bureaucrats believed he was dead...and convincing them had been far too easy! A burned-out jeep with three hired flunkies inside was all it took. Well, that and the tattered wallet he'd ordered planted underneath following the explosion...with his ID inside. Such a shame those insignificant flunkies didn't realize what they'd truly been hired for! They'd thought they were part of a second string attack on Edwards Air Force Base, after his first round of attackers had been either rounded up or killed. They had no idea they'd really been hired...to die.

It didn't really matter to the man who called himself Nemesis that - for now - he'd be hearing about the results of his plan from his new base in Mexico. The bureaucrats believed there was no longer a reason for them to remain on the West Coast and they'd soon be flying home...then the party would _truly_ begin! The man and the woman whose bodies contained the power packs he needed to complete his finest creation were completely unaware that they were still being sought. He'd been told that morning that their names were Steve Austin and Jaime Sommers but that was of no interest to him. He imagined that they were feeling mighty cozy and secure right now, with no further need for a squadron of Security surrounding them; they'd be easily overcome and grabbed...and brought to him in Mexico. His _final _plans for them would make the completion of his invention all the more sweet.

Nemesis couldn't wait to hear the woman _scream_!


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Oscar had some serious decisions to make. Not that he didn't make serious decisions nearly every waking hour of every day, but this one was different. What would he do about Russ? Jack Hansen and the heads of the CIA and FBI would be flying back to Washington DC today and Oscar should've been on that plane too. He couldn't remember ever having been away from his main office for this long before - but something was _very_ wrong with his young right-hand man and while Oscar hadn't needed to remove him from his duties (yet), he feared the time was coming fast. Oscar was already running operations on both the East and West Coasts...and Russ's behavior was growing increasingly alarming and out-of-character. The episodes of forgetfulness had become longer bouts of completely blanking out, with no memory afterward of anything having been amiss (except for the worried attitudes of his superiors and doctors). Now the pendulum also seemed to be swinging toward _rage_. Small, short bouts - more 'outbursts' than 'bouts', really - but extremely out of character for a young man who could normally face the same situations and decisions as Oscar with impressive equilibrium and intelligence.

Russ had allowed Michael and Rudy to admit him to the hospital (although it had taken Oscar's threat of suspension to accomplish that), so now Oscar was placing his hope and trust directly into the doctors' hands, praying they'd be able to diagnose - and 'fix' - whatever was happening. He needed his young assistant back again...but much more than that, Oscar was missing his _friend_.

* * *

Jaime danced around her backyard, twirling like a small child playing a game of Statues...and Steve couldn't help but smile, watching her. She hadn't been _free_ - not really - since Chris Williams' selfishness had so nearly gotten her killed. For awhile it had seemed that every time she'd begun to heal and find her footing in the world again...something else knocked her down. On a celebratory cruise that had followed her release from the hospital (after the car wreck Chris had orchestrated), they'd ended up shipwrecked and stranded on a tiny atoll in the Pacific Ocean. Almost immediately upon her release from the hospital that time, the ugly business with the terrorist group Oscar had dubbed _Cobra _had begun. It had been impossible to enjoy the return of Jaime's memories of their past lives together (and the love they had shared) when they were forced to spend all of their time just staying alive.

Now that Grant Kingsley (the leader of Cobra) had been killed, Jaime and Steve were finally _free_. There would be re-training for Jaime before she could begin working as an OSI operative again, as her memories of the last three years (and all of her OSI training and experience) had been lost in the car accident. Re-training could wait for now, though. She'd earned some time to just _live_; they both had.

''Freedom agrees with her...and with you,'' a familiar (and beloved) voice said as its owner rounded the side of the house.

''Good morning, Rudy!'' Steve greeted.

''Morning? It's almost 1:00! Don't tell me you two are just now getting out of...oh. Ah...forget I said that,'' Rudy stammered as the realization of what his two patients had been up to hit him. Privately, he was overjoyed that they'd found their very own brand of physical (and emotional) therapy. ''I thought I'd stop by and see how my two favorite patients are faring, now that you're out of the bunker,'' he explained, then was quick to add more of an explanation. ''Mark Conrad told me you might be here, looking out for Jaime. I'm glad.''

''We're looking out for each other, Doc,'' Steve said with a grin.

''How's that arm feeling?'' Rudy asked. Steve had suffered an open fracture on his left arm, just above the elbow - and while the portion that had broken through the skin was small, open fractures needed special care.

''Not too bad, actually. Haven't really needed those pain meds...but I'm taking them anyway,'' Steve hastened to add. ''Mark set me straight on that. Still taking the antibiotics too.''

''Good. And Jaime...how's she doing?'' Rudy wondered. She seemed to be so caught up in her own exuberance - smelling the flowers, feeling the sunshine on her face and reacquainting herself with the feel of _freedom_- that she hadn't noticed him yet.

''She's wonderful,'' Steve confirmed. ''And...no nightmares last night. Not even a bad dream.''

''I'm glad.''

''Rudy!'' _Now _she had spotted him - and came sailing over to offer him a hug. ''Are you hungry? I was just about to make brunch.''

''Just had lunch, Honey...but thank you. I just need to give the two of you a quick once-over, than I'll leave you to enjoy your first day of freedom. Oscar still needs statements from both of you, to close out the Cobra/Kingsley case, but he said that could wait until tomorrow.''

''He's not flying back to DC today?'' Steve asked.

''He'll be here awhile longer.'' Rudy knew Steve and Jaime hadn't been told about the problem with Russ...and he wasn't about to trouble them with it now; there was nothing they could do to help.

''I compared Russ's latest tests to the baseline results from three days ago,'' Michael told Oscar. ''No changes at all - and absolutely no visible abnormalities. Mark Conrad is on his way up to National Medical, to see what he can find out. Maybe it's got something to do with that new syndrome he's studying - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder - because Rudy and I can't find anything medically wrong with him.''

''What about a chip...in his brain?'' Oscar asked. ''Rudy mentioned the possibility that Kingsley had developed some sort of -''

''_Mind control_?'' Michael scoffed. ''No. A 'chip' would've shown up on the brain scan - and besides, mind control is so far out of the realm of possibility that it doesn't deserve consideration.''

''Michael...20 or 30 years ago, people would've said the same thing about bionics.''


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The OSI Director shook the OSI Staff Psychiatrist's hand and they sat down together at the desk over a cup of coffee. One (Mark Conrad) would be in Los Angeles for the foreseeable future...the other (Oscar) would be here for an unknown length of time, until the situation with his right-hand man was resolved. ''How's Russ?'' Oscar began. ''Have you seen him today?''

''Cooperative - for the moment - and very confused,'' Conrad told him. ''But I'm not here to talk about Russ; I'd like to talk about _you_.''

''Me? Why?''

''You've been under enormous pressure, Oscar.''

''I'm _always _under enormous pressure; that's certainly nothing new.''

Conrad nodded. ''Exactly. You're usually here before the suns comes up...and your office light is often one of the last to go out at night, from what I'm told. So...how _do _you cope? Do you have an escape valve for all that stress?''

''It's called bourbon,'' Oscar replied (only half joking).

''Sleeping okay? Sleeping _at all_?''

''I am, now that Kingsley's dead,'' Oscar told him. Oscar's 'cold bureaucratic heart' had broken at the thought of what the head of Cobra had done to his three friends (and subordinates)...especially Jaime. In general, Oscar preferred that terrorists (or any criminals his agency sought) be taken alive so they could face justice - but any man who would terrorize a helpless woman by threatening her with power tools didn't deserve to exist on the planet. And it appeared that at least a good portion of Kingsley's posse would face justice in his place. ''I appreciate everything you're doing to help Jaime and Steve...and to try and help Russ,'' Oscar concluded.

''Jaime's a very strong woman,'' Conrad acknowledged. ''I don't know that I could've gone through what she did and come out of it that well. She'll still have struggles with it all from time to time, I'm sure, but she's definitely turned a corner in terms of recovery.''

* * *

Steve had asked Rudy (in private) for a favor...and sent him on a very special errand. Now, as he and Jaime leaned into each other on the back porch swing, he couldn't contain it for one more second. ''I have something for you,'' he said softly. ''If you...still want it, that is.''

Jaime flashed a grin. ''I _always _want what you have for me.''

''Besides that,'' Steve chuckled. He withdrew his arm from around her waist, reached into his pocket and retrieved a very small box, cupping it in his hand to hide it from Jaime's view. ''We've already talked about this and agreed to it...but I think it needs to be official.'' His heart pounding, he opened the little box to display a very familiar ring...and tears began to pearl in Jaime's eyes. ''I've loved you for as long as I can remember,'' he told her. ''I can't even imagine my world without you in it. So - formally and officially - will you marry me?''

''You know I will! Of course I will! Steve...that's...that's _my ring_...from _before_! You still have it!''

Indeed, it was. They had been engaged when Jaime had 'died'...and Rudy had returned the ring to Steve, who'd kept it tucked away for years in the hope that one day he might offer it to her again. His patience and his faith in their love had borne fruit, after all; that day had _finally _arrived. There were tears forming in Steve's eyes that mirrored Jaime's...and they shared a tender embrace as they rejoiced in the knowledge that they'd never be parted again.

* * *

Michael walked into the room just in time; his patient was - without permission or consent - packing to go home! ''Russ, you need to get back in bed,'' he said calmly.

Russ shook his head and began getting dressed. ''Sorry, Michael...but I'm done here. I've been your guinea pig - yours and Rudy's and Mark Conrad's too - for longer than anyone should put up with. You've put me through every test known to the civilized world...twice in three days. You've found nothing. It's over. I shouldn't have had to prove myself - but I did - and now I need to get back to work.''

''You know Oscar won't let you work until we've gotten to the root of what's been going on.''

''No; you're wrong. Oscar told me I needed to let you work your medical magic,'' Russ said bitterly. ''Well, I've done that.''

''You need to give us a little more time to -''

''I _need _to get out of here! Get out of the way, please.''

''I can't let you leave; I'm sorry,'' Michael told him.

''Let me? Since when am I a prisoner here? I'm going, Michael - and I'll only say it one more time. Get. Out. Of. My. Way!'' Without any further warning, Russ reached out and punched the young doctor in the stomach then (while Michael was trying to catch his breath) forcibly pushed him out of the way...and left the hospital.

* * *

''He _what?!_'' Oscar gasped when Rudy phoned him with the news. ''Is Michael alright?''

''He's fine. Had the wind knocked out of him and he's got a pretty good bruise - but we're just worried about Russ. Even with everything else that's been going on with him, this is completely out of character. Security is searching the hospital and the grounds but so far they haven't seen him. And...his car is gone.''

''Thank you, Rudy; I'll take it from here.'' Oscar hung up the phone and then immediately dialed it again, arranging a welfare check to Russ's apartment. When that came up empty (there was absolutely no sign of him), Oscar did what up until that night would have been utterly unthinkable. He issued an All Points Bulletin for Mark Russell, for felonious assault and battery.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_I have to warn Jaime and Steve!_ Oscar thought to himself. God, he didn't want to do that! He didn't want to have to 'warn' anyone about Russ - not intelligent, capable, level-headed Russ! But Oscar had to face facts. The young man who had just punched a doctor in a federally-owned hospital (a felony) was _not_ the same Russ he'd been working with for years. Something was distorting his thinking. Concussion? PTSD? _Mind control?! _Oscar tried his best to toss the last possibility aside; it was too awful...and seemingly impossible. And yet...

''We came as soon as we finished making our statements,'' Rudy said, entering Oscar's office with Michael close behind.

''I've issued an APB,'' Oscar said (almost inaudibly).

''Oscar...I'm so sorry,'' Michael told him. ''I shouldn't have let him go.''

Oscar shook his head. ''You didn't _let him_; I know that. Are you alright?''

''I will be.''

Oscar looked at Rudy - and then did a double-take. The older doctor's face was void of most of its color and he looked like he hadn't slept in days. By itself, this wouldn't be overly worrisome...but it had been less than six weeks since Rudy had suffered an 'incident' with his heart on the night Cobra had taken over National Medical. ''Rudy,'' Oscar began carefully, ''when was the last time _you _had a physical?''

''I've suggested he take some time off,'' Michael told Oscar. ''You'd think I'd asked him to cut off an arm.''

Rudy shook his head sadly; they were wasting time. ''We can talk about this after we find Russ,'' he insisted. ''Have you called Steve and Jaime yet? In case he tries to contact them...''

''They may even be able to help,'' Oscar surmised.

''Oscar!'' Michael warned.

''I don't mean working this, like a mission; just that some fresh insight might be valuable.''

Within the hour, Jaime and Steve were in Oscar's office. They'd been told nothing over the phone except that he needed to see them - and it was urgent. Quickly (aided by Michael and Rudy), Oscar filled them in...and they were stunned. ''So while we don't know what's going on with him,'' Oscar summarized, ''it's clearly dangerous for him to be out there on his own.''

''And you need us to find him!'' Jaime stated.

''No!'' Steve, Michael and Rudy all told her at nearly the same time.

''What I need, Babe, is your input,'' Oscar explained. ''Yours and Steve's. And I wanted you to be aware of the situation...in case Russ tries to contact you.''

''One thing I can tell you,'' Steve said slowly, ''is if Kingsley had a hand in this - even though he's dead now - this could get uglier than any of us can possibly imagine.''

* * *

Nemesis/Kingsley looked in the mirror...and smiled. Even if he was somehow spotted, they would never recognize him now. (It was amazing what you could buy, when money was not a problem!) He hadn't been in Mexico for very long, but he was already growing restless - and eager to begin the next phase of his plan. He would toy with the woman - 'Jaime' - until she was too terrorized to move or function any longer...the way a cat toys with a mouse before the kill. He'd let her wallow in that fear for awhile, with her boyfriend/husband (what the hell _was_ he to her, anyhow?) forced to watch, unable to help or comfort her. Killing her would almost be merciful by the time he was through with her - and Nemesis had no mercy - so he would kill the man in front of her instead. He would draw out her torture for as long as possible, simply because he could...and because it was _fun_.

* * *

Russ had no idea where he was - and no memory of how he'd gotten there. Confused and frightened, he pulled out his datacom, intending to radio Oscar for help but when he turned it on, he heard the All Points Bulletin...for himself! _Felonious Assault and Battery!_ (What the _hell_?) Up until now, he'd only experienced a few momentary black-outs; easily hidden, covered up and ignored. Now it appeared that Michael and Rudy (and yes, Oscar) has been right, after all. This was _serious_. He had _harmed_ someone...and as hard as he tried, Russ had absolutely no memory of it. Who had he hurt? And where could he go for help? Would _anyone_ be able to help him now...or would he be sent straight to jail (or - he shuddered to even think of it - the NSB's 'Hole')? Russ hunkered down for awhile in his car, listening to his datacom and hoping for any sort of a clue as to what was going on...but no more information was forthcoming. He needed to _know_...and he needed _**help**__!_

With very few options open to him now, Russ found a payphone, threw in a pocketful of change...and dialed Jaime's number. Steve answered the phone and Russ drew a deep, steadying breath. ''Steve...it's Russ...''


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

''Russ...where are you, buddy?'' Steve asked gently.

''I'm...I don't know,'' Russ admitted.

''Lot of people are trying to find you right now; they just want to help you. Can you find a street sign...or ask someone what city you're in?''

''No. Look, Steve, I know why they're really looking - and it's _not _to help me!''

''You _need _help, Russ,'' Steve stated bluntly.

''Look, what I really need right now is just to know...what happened.''

''You don't remember?''

''Steve, please...tell me what I did!'' Russ pleaded. His voice held a quiet desperation that made Steve fear even more deeply for his friend and colleague.

''You punched Michael and -''

''Oh no...''

''And you've probably figured out the rest; you left the hospital Against Medical Advice,'' Steve concluded.

''Look, I have to go,'' Russ told him. He suspected (correctly) that there was a tracer on Jaime's phone. ''I'll call again when I can.''

''Russ - wait!'' Steve called. But his friend had already hung up the phone.

* * *

''Rudy, please stop pacing, _sit down _and let me take a look at you,'' Michael requested. It seemed that his boss and mentor had not rested for a single moment since they'd returned to National Medical (to go over Russ's test results one more time). Rudy complied without argument. ''Your blood pressure is way too high,'' Michael noted. ''I'd like to put you in a bed upstairs, run some tests...and call in your cardiologist.''

''Alright,'' Rudy agreed. (This in itself told Michael he felt far worse than he'd been letting on.)

Michael rifled through the drug cabinet and returned with a capsule of propranolol. ''Take this...and let's get you upstairs to a bed.''

* * *

Steve was doing some serious pacing of his own. Jaime wrapped her arms around him, trying to soothe him at least a little bit. There was nothing they could do right now except wait. ''They'll find him,'' she said softly.

''How? Don't forget - he's OSI. If he doesn't want to be found...''

''I wish they'd let me help,'' Jaime commiserated.

''Out of the question, Sweetheart.''

''But...why?'' Jaime wasn't whining; she genuinely wanted to know. While she might not be considered fully trained anymore (thanks to her memory loss from the car crash), it wasn't entirely necessary in this case. She really didn't remember knowing or working with Russ, but Jaime knew of his importance - and from the few times she'd met him since her accident, she really liked him and wanted to help in any way that she could. ''I know he's become violent now,'' she persisted. ''I understand that. But that's exactly why they _need _me on this, Steve! Right now, I'm the only person who can actually physically stop him!''

''You're probably right about that,'' Steve allowed. ''But the answer is still _no_.''

''Is that Oscar's answer...or yours?''

''Both.'' Steve wrapped his good arm around Jaime and led her to the sofa. Part of the reason he was here was to look out for Jaime's emotional well-being...and he intended to do exactly that, with some extra attention paid to her physical needs, as well. Truth be told, Steve needed the physical comfort as badly as Jaime did. Possibly more so, because for Jaime it would distract her from the urge to run off and start investigating Russ's disappearance on her own when she was still ill-equipped to do so. For Steve, it helped him forget - at least for a little while - that (with a fractured left arm and multiple broken ribs) he was physically unable to help his friend.

Afterward, they laid curled up together (both needing the closeness) until Steve fell asleep. Feeling guilty (but very, very determined), Jaime slid out from under his right arm, got dressed and headed silently out the door.

* * *

Her hunch had been correct; even though it was well past dinnertime, his office light was still burning brightly. ''Jaime, what are you doing here?'' Oscar wondered. (He was always happy to see her, of course...but he sensed he might not be happy with the reason she was here.) ''Where's Steve?''

''He's home...um...back at my house. In bed. _Sleeping_,'' she added quickly, realizing she was digging herself a bigger and bigger hole with every sentence.

''So he doesn't know you're here?''

''Well...no,'' Jaime admitted.

''Should I guess why you're here?'' Oscar asked. ''Because while I probably could - and I'd be _right_- I'd rather hear it from you.''

''Have your men made any progress toward finding Russ?''

''Not yet. Between City and State Police, my men and the hospital's Security teams, though, we will,'' Oscar promised.

''Unless he's already left the state,'' Jaime pointed out. ''And if he senses he's being followed...if it's one of his more alert times, it'll spook him and he'll keep running. If it's during one of his bad times...you could be looking at a case of 'suicide by cop'.''

Oscar was impressed. He almost regretted what was going to happen next. _Almost. _Steve had stirred within minutes of when Jaime had gone and - correctly deducing where she was headed because of the conversation they'd had earlier - he had alerted Oscar. As if on cue, Steve came striding into the office, feigning near-panic so convincingly that (even though he was in on it) Oscar almost believed him.

''Oscar - big trouble! I woke up...and Jaime was -'' he stopped short when Jaime turned to look at him. ''Oh, thank God! Sweetheart, I was SO worried about you!''

Jaime chuckled and shook her head. ''Not buyin' it, Colonel. Sorry.''

''You don't believe I was worried about you?'' Steve was shocked. Oscar (wisely) decided to sit back and listen for now.

''Oh, I believe you were worried...but I don't believe - for one second - that you didn't know where I was. Evidence: you didn't call Oscar to tell him I was 'missing' and ask for his help; you came straight here.''

''Looks like she's got you, Pal,'' Oscar told him.

''See?'' Jaime crowed. ''I _can _work a case!''

''This is hardly a case, Sweetheart; this is you, sneaking out to do something you knew I'd have a problem with, if I'd been awake to tell you 'no'. In fact, I _did _tell you 'no'!''

''So,'' Jaime said to Oscar (ignoring Steve's statement entirely), ''am I re-hired?''

''Absolutely not!'' Oscar said firmly. Privately, he was quite impressed with her powers of deduction - but right now he had a point to make...and he proceeded to hammer it home. ''When I assign protection - or a trainer - to one of my operatives, I expect that directive to be followed to the letter and _not_abandoned at the operative's whim! Is that understood?''

''Yes,'' Jaime said in a meek voice.

Oscar turned to Steve. ''And I trust you'll speak with her at more length about this?''

''Of course,'' Steve promised. "The minute we get home."

* * *

Nemesis was pleased. While he'd enjoyed his (very brief) visit to Mexico, it killed him more than he'd thought it would to be so far away from the action. The bureaucrats had flown home to Washington, his two targets were once again without their protective Security force - and his men had located somewhere that his final plan could take place that would be even more terrifying than anything that could be found South of the Border. It was almost time to begin...


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Jaime flounced into the house full of indignation and wounded pride - and flopped down into a chair. Her jaw was firmly set in the manner that usually told Steve to back down - that he couldn't possibly win - but it wasn't going to work; not this time. ''Jaime, what were you thinking?'' he demanded as quietly as he could manage. ''I know your intentions were good, but what you did...you set out to deceive me! You _snuck _out of here!''

''Obviously not too successfully,'' she retorted. ''And I seem to remember someone telling me a good operative knows when to follow their instincts...even when it means having to defy an order -''

''See, that's just it. You're not an operative; not yet. And you need to prove you can listen and _follow _orders before you can be trusted to know when to defy them!'' Steve insisted.

''Are we...fighting?''

''I'm not. And I hope you're not either. You wanted to re-start your training - and you've been cleared to do that, so -''

''I...have?'' It was the first Jaime had heard of it.

Steve smiled, just slightly. ''Of course you have. So consider this Night One of your training. And one thing I've noticed - a bad habit you're falling into that you need to break _right now_ - is taking off on your own. Analyzing a situation, following your gut and making independent decisions are all wonderful, but you should never, _ever _take off on your own without letting anyone know what your plans are...or where you are. If something goes wrong, back-up needs to be able to find you. Yeah, there will be times when that just isn't possible...but it seems to be your Standard Operating Procedure to simply take off...and that can be very, very dangerous.''

Jaime nodded solemnly; it made sense. They talked for hours, with Steve detailing some of her past missions for Jaime - amid discussions of exactly what it meant to devote themselves to lives as OSI operatives. Jaime listened with rapt attention; this was what she'd been waiting for. When they took a break for a late-night pizza and a bottle of wine, Jaime grew wistful.

''Tell me about Russ,'' she requested.

''After everything we just talked about, you're not still thinking of -''

''No; of course not. I just wish...I knew him better. I mean, I know that I used to, but...what's he like?''

''Well, he's one of the most level-headed people I know,'' Steve told her, ''aside from Oscar, anyhow. I've always had the impression he was slated to take over for Oscar someday. He'd be good at it, too; at least...he would've been good at it. That's _if _Oscar were ever to retire.''

''That's a big _**if,**_'' Jaime added. ''I can't picture Oscar ever doing anything other than what he does right now.''

* * *

What Oscar was doing 'right now' was burning the midnight oil (as was his usual habit). He'd checked in with Michael at National. (Rudy was doing well, albeit grumbling mildly about having to be off his feet and in bed.) He'd touched bases with the various teams who were out looking for Russ (still no sign of him anywhere) and he had reluctantly notified Jack Hansen as to what was going on. With all of the information Russ was carrying in his head, his disappearance - and the possibility he'd gone 'rogue' - was a matter of national security. They also had to consider the probability that Russ still carried his OSI-issued weapon; wherever he was, Russ was _armed_.

* * *

Russ had finally figured out where he was, thanks to the brochures and area map he'd found in the motel's bedside table. He fought back the urge to phone Oscar, to test the waters and see if he could call off the APB and let him return home. He didn't dare try it. By definition of his office, Oscar's first duty was to his country (and its laws); it had to be. Russ couldn't fault him for that. Michael and Rudy...would they help him? Almost as much as he feared being locked up (with his freedom revoked indefinitely), Russ also feared becoming a test subject...a guinea pig. While that wouldn't have been the doctors' intention, things would undoubtedly turn in that direction. Mark Conrad was a possibility...but Russ didn't want to analyze what was happening to him; he just wanted to go _home_.

He checked his gun one more time, ensuring it was fully loaded, and then placed it under his pillow for now. Like it or not, he was on his own...and needed every line of defense he could get.

* * *

Nemesis hung up the phone, threw back his head...and laughed. Everything was in place - and so much sooner than he'd expected! The location he'd chosen was full of foreboding: dark, threatening and _desolate_. The destruction, decay and mildew added just the right touch to what he planned to accomplish there! He'd make the trip first thing in the morning, to make sure everything was at the ready to receive - and torment - the two people who had caused him so much trouble. How they would be taken was still up in the air...but he was certain the opportunity would present itself and then - Oh! - what he was going to do to them!

* * *

Jaime nestled securely and blissfully in the crook of Steve's arm. The sheets had long since tangled and hit the floor - but they had no need for them. She knew she would die a happy woman if the rest of their lives were as perfect and idyllic as this singular moment. Steve held her close, luxuriating in the smell of her hair and the soft way it had brushed across his chest while they'd been enjoying their newly rediscovered closeness. Everything he'd dreamed of but barely allowed himself to hope for was finally coming true.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Steve and Jaime had enjoyed a blissful night's sleep (having completely worn each other out and satisfied their every need), with Jaime still nestled comfortably in the crook of Steve's arm, her head still resting on his upper chest, away from the ribs that had endured such brutal blows from their captors' boots. Jaime watched him sleep (he looked like a tousled-haired little boy) and marveled at the qualities he possessed that she hoped she could gradually learn from and absorb: his strength and sense of responsibility, tempered with carefully acquired knowledge and experience. At one point during the night, Steve had been watching Jaime sleep...and found qualities he admired and longed for, as well: her exuberance, the still-innocent way she often looked at the world (although he sensed that Cobra may have broken that innocence at least somewhat) and her genuine desire to _help_ those around her, regardless of the potential consequences. Mark Conrad had been right - they completed each other...and yes, Jaime softened him.

* * *

Oscar hadn't slept much at all. Even with the assistance of two glasses of bourbon, the best he had managed was a couple of brief dozes at his desk while he waited - prayed - for the phone to ring. And then - near dawn - a _hit!_ Oscar's teams had spread out to check every hotel and motel in Southern California as well as the surrounding states...and a night clerk had recognized Russ's picture! They had to move carefully, so as not to spook him (or - God forbid - spur him to violence). Since it was still very early, Oscar hoped Russ would be sleeping, but he had agents surrounding the ugly little motel on all sides (from a distance, of course) while he put in calls for Mark Conrad...and Steve.

* * *

''Please be careful,'' Jaime said softly, watching Steve get dressed.

''We will.'' Steve had been relieved to hear the units who'd found Russ would be 'standing down' unless it became necessary to move in to keep him from leaving...or to prevent a tragedy. Mark Conrad would be carrying a 'knock-out' spray - far easier to administer than a shot - and although Steve didn't like what was starting to seem like a trend (of the OSI drugging their own), it was still preferable to what could happen if Russ were to become agitated.

''I wish I was coming with you,'' Jaime told him.

''Not this time...but you still have a very important role. It'll take us about 45 minutes to get there and if he calls here in the meantime, try to keep him calm. Don't give him any hint that he's being watched...or that help is on the way.'' Steve pointed out the yellow button on her datacom (again). ''And if you do hear from him, press this button right away, so Oscar knows. You don't have to transmit anything to him. Oscar'll get the message. Just keep Russ talking and distracted - and _calm_- for as long as you can. Okay?''

''I understand.'' She gave Steve a quick kiss, held him close for a moment (trying her best not to show him she was worried and a little frightened)...and then Steve had to hurry out the door. Jaime wasn't even sure _why _she was frightened; just a funny, gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach that she'd learned was instinct giving her a message.

She just didn't understand _why_.

* * *

''Already?'' Nemesis chortled. He wouldn't be in his new location for at least several more hours...but everything was ready. He'd made sure of that. The woman was all alone...and it would be as easy as taking a lamb to the slaughter; a very beautiful - but very, very helpless - little lamb.

* * *

Russ's clothes were rumpled as though he'd slept in them, which he had...for the little time he _had_ slept, on top of the covers with his gun within easy reach. The silence on his datacom was unnerving. What were they up to? He was _starving_! There'd been little to eat since he'd left the hospital as he was trying to conserve his money for as long as he could; he knew how dangerous leaving a paper trail (like credit card receipts) could be to him. Then, while he was heating a cup of watery instant coffee (which was all this motel provided)...an unexpected knock at the door! Russ cocked his gun and considered his options.

''Russ, it's me,'' Steve called from the other side of the door.

''Go away, Steve!''

''It's just me...and Mark Conrad. The police aren't with us.'' (They were within sight and earshot...but Russ didn't need to know that.) ''We just wanted to check on you - to make sure you're okay. And we brought breakfast, in case you haven't eaten yet.''

Very slowly, with his gun still at the ready, Russ opened the door.

* * *

Jaime lingered over a mug of coffee (with a teaspoon of cocoa) and tried to relax. From what she knew of Russ, he'd never purposely hurt anyone...but he didn't seem anything like himself right now...and no one could figure out _why_. As much as she feared for Russ, she was frightened now for Steve and Mark Conrad's safety as well. She wondered how long it would take before she heard any news. They had probably just arrived...wherever it was they were going. It would be awhile yet. She heard the sound of the paperboy's bicycle stopping in front of her house and the resultant _thwack _when the paper hit the porch. Deciding the crossword puzzle would be an ideal distraction, Jaime changed into sweat pants and a tank top (the neighbors didn't really need to see her nightie) and padded out to the porch.

She never saw (or even had a chance to hear) it coming. As soon as her feet hit the stoop, a strong arm snaked around her from behind, pressing hard against her solar plexus and forcing her to take a deep breath in a struggle for air. As soon as she did so, a sweet-smelling rag was pressed firmly over her face...and that one deep breath was all it took. Jaime slumped toward the ground, unconscious - and was quickly thrown into the back of a van and secured as the van peeled away from the curb, the first part of the occupants' terrible mission complete.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Jaime woke with a start, confused and alarmed to discover she couldn't see. _A hood?_ No...a blindfold. Instinct told her to lie very still so she wouldn't be dosed again with whatever they'd used on her on the porch. (Chloroform?) A gag filled her mouth, held in place by some sort of tape...and her arms and legs were secured with what felt like very heavy chains. Who was behind this..._Cobra?_ Revenge for the death of their leader? Jaime knew she had to keep her wits about her. Steve was occupied with bring Russ back safely; it might be hours before anyone even knew she was missing! She had only seconds to ponder this though; alerted by her stirring motions before she'd been fully awake, her captors pressed the awful-smelling cloth over her face again and even though she tried to hold her breath, it stayed firmly (almost cruelly) in place until she was forced to give in to the beckoning darkness.

* * *

Mark and Steve both warily eyed the gun that was trained directly on them as Russ allowed them entry and closed (and chain-locked) the door behind him. ''You don't need that,'' Mark told him. ''We're not here to hurt you.''

''How do I know that?'' Russ demanded, his eyes flashing.

Steve held out a stack of Styrofoam carry-out boxes and a tray of coffees. ''Bacon and eggs,'' he offered. ''Or sausage; your choice. Let's talk, buddy...okay?''

''Sausage,'' Russ conceding, placing the gun on the bed to accept a tray from Steve.

''Can you tell us what's going on?'' Mark asked as they all crowded around the wobbly little table to eat.

''I...don't really know. I heard the APB - and I know what it's for. I just...I can't picture it,'' Russ told them.

''You don't remember?'' Conrad probed.

''No. I...wish I did.,'' Russ told them sadly.

Steve considered reaching around Russ and grabbing the gun. It was only mere feet away from him, directly behind Russ...but a failure would be disastrous. ''Why did you run from the hospital in the first place?'' he asked.

''I wish I knew. Now everything is so messed up. My career is over...and I'm going to prison. _If _they catch me - which they won't.''

''It doesn't have to be that way,'' Steve told him. ''If you go back now, I doubt Michael will press charges. He knows something is going on with you - something you can't control...''

Russ shook his head vehemently. Mark and Steve could actually see the instant, dramatic change in his demeanor and his eye. ''I can't do that, Steve,'' he insisted. ''I can't go back - and I won't!'' He reached for the gun and held it menacingly. ''Thanks for the breakfast. Now leave your wallets on the table...and get the hell out! I am _not_ joking around. I _will_ shoot you!''

* * *

Jaime woke slowly this time...and was careful not to move and give her conscious state away. She knew they'd been driving a long time, since this was now the third time she'd fought her way out of the chloroform's effect. She guessed (from the hard metal floor she was lying on) that they were in a van. Even if she _could_ break the heavy chains that bound her, Jaime knew what would happen if she tried. So instead she lay very still, trying to gather all the Intel she could...before they put her out again. This seemed - no..._felt_ - like something Cobra would do, but Kingsley was dead now...wasn't he?

* * *

Oscar lit a cigar and waited for word...either from Mark and Steve or his field officers...or possibly from Jaime. Could Cobra (what was left of it, with their leader gone) be behind whatever was happening to his right-hand man? _Mind control_ shouldn't be possible...but _was it_? Even the doctors, with their scientific, analytical minds, didn't seem so sure anymore. Like he'd told Rudy and Michael, to a casual observer - even one with a scientific, analytical mind - bionics wouldn't seem possible either. Still..._mind control_?!

He wondered how Jaime was doing with everything that was going on. Oscar tried to call her (just to touch bases) and got no answer. She was probably just out for a walk, he told himself. A healthy response, to enjoy some fresh air, certainly nothing to be alarmed about. He hoped Steve hadn't been too hard on her. Jaime had taken the initiative to try and help but she _had_ to know the proper procedures before she could go ahead and ignore them...the way her trainer did.

* * *

''You don't need the gun,'' Steve said in a calm, steady voice. He saw that Mark was slow maneuvering himself into a good position to use the knock out spray and they would only have one chance to try it before Russ might decide to actually _use_ the gun, so everything had to be just right. Steve was making sure Russ was focused on _him_...and not on Mark's movements.

''Gets your attention though - doesn't it?'' Russ snarled. ''And I'm not kidding. Get out of here or I'll use it. I don't have anything left to lose!''

''Russ...listen to me,'' Steve said softly. ''So far, nothing you've done is irrevocable. If you use that...''

''_Shut up!_ I know the 'OSI way' of talking to someone with a gun as well as you do. It won't work; not this time! Now..._**get OUT**__!_''

Steve and Mark began moving slowly toward the door, with Mark careful to stay as close to Russ as possible (facing him, with his back toward the door as he went). At the last possible second, when there was no longer any choice, he pulled the small canister from his pocket and pressed the button.

Russ had not been making an idle threat. In an almost reflexive action as the spray hit his face...the gun went off.

* * *

So far, Jaime's captors had not realized she was awake. She lay quietly (helpless to do much else) and listened.

''This seems almost cruel, treating a woman this way,'' one of the men remarked.

''She's not a normal woman; she could kick all of our butts into next week if we gave her a chance. Besides, if you think this is cruel...you have no idea what Kingsley's gonna do to her.''

If she hadn't been gagged, Jaime's captors would've heard her involuntary gasp of sheer terror. _Kingsley - her __**Drill Man**__ was alive_- and he was waiting for her!


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Russ staggered back, cursing wildly, blinded by the spray and crippled by the bullet he'd accidentally fired into his own foot. He fell backward onto the floor - and Steve pulled out his datacom. ''Move in,'' he called to the units waiting outside. ''We'll need a stretcher; he's out.''

Normally, he'd have felt horrible guilt at deceiving his friend. (In fact, such deception wasn't possible for him, really.) But this was about as far from a normal situation as it could get and Russ's safety - as well as the safety of the public - had been in serious jeopardy. Relieved and gratified by their success, he picked up the motel phone to call Jaime...then puzzled when there was no answer. But he knew how confined she'd felt in the bunker (and before that, in the hospital) and smiled as he pictured her reading the paper in the backyard, reveling in the fresh air and sunshine.

* * *

Spurred on by a rising sense of panic that she couldn't force back any longer (and even knowing it would likely earn her another dose of chloroform), Jaime began to struggle at her bonds. They proved too heavy for her to break (probably designed that way on purpose by Kingsley).

''Wait,'' one of the men said. ''Maybe we should leave her awake...for now. He wants her to suffer, remember?''

''Good point,'' another agreed. Jaime could feel his breath as he leaned over her. ''Don't be scared,'' he told her. ''_This_ is nothing. When we get there..._then_ you can be scared!''

* * *

Steve accompanied Russ to National (where - for now - he'd be sedated and held in a guarded, _locked_ room), gave his statement to Oscar (who was there waiting for him)...and hurried home to Jaime. He'd no sooner made his way up the front sidewalk when he nearly dropped to his knees, all the breath momentarily sucked out of him. There had been people standing in the flower beds, on both sides of the front stoop! Security, from a few days ago? No; Jaime'd have had their heads on a silver platter if they'd trampled her flowers! Clearly, people (at least two of them) had been standing in wait, pressed against the house where she wouldn't have seen them when she first stepped outside. _Jaime had been ambushed!_

* * *

Jaime continued to struggle against her bonds. She clearly had nothing to lose; from the sound of it, these men had been directed to bring her to the head of Cobra _alive_. She couldn't begin to imagine what might happen then...but she didn't want to, either. She wished - as awful as the thought was - that they'd simply kill her instead.

The chains _had _to be fashioned from lead because as hard as she strained, she couldn't break them. Finally, she was forced to accept her own helplessness and she laid back against the cold metal floor of the van...defeated. The men continued to throw random taunts in her direction for what she judged to be about an hour - but thankfully, at least none of them touched her. Then...

''Better put her out again. We've here.''

* * *

For the second time in less than a week, 'suits' were swarming Jaime's front and back yards and her house as well. ''No blood anywhere, Sir,'' one of them reported to Oscar. ''No signs of a struggle, either. Colonel, are you sure -''

''Of _course_ he's sure!'' Oscar snapped. He pulled out his own datacom and issued another All Points Bulletin - this one for Endangered Person, Federal Agent - and then escorted a totally distraught Steve inside to sit on the sofa. ''Let's put our heads together here, Pal,'' he suggested. ''The neighborhood's being canvassed for anyone who may have seen _anything_, no matter how insignificant they think it might be. Tell me everything you can think of about Jaime's morning routine.''

Steve related every detail he could think of, from being awakened by Oscar's phone call to guessing Jaime hadn't had time to have breakfast yet, judging from the lack of dishes (except for a juice glass) in the sink. Nothing he could recall seemed to be much help...and then one of the investigative teams brought them something concrete!

''Neighbor across the street reports seeing a dark green van - no side or rear windows - parked in front of the house just before the paperboy made his rounds. A few minutes later she was reading the paper when she heard the squeal of tires. Looked out again...and the van was gone. So no plate number, but at least we've got a vehicle to go on. It's a start.''

Not enough of one...and they all knew it. It might take hours to pour over the lists of every owner of a dark green van in Southern California - and that was IF the van was even from the area! But for now, it was all they had.

* * *

Jaime could _smell_ the room - the rot, mildew and decay - before she even opened her eyes. Surprisingly, her blindfold was gone and - even more of a surprise - she was alone in the room. She could hear footsteps (heavy ones, made by men's boots) just outside though, and knew she was still being guarded. One look around told her that they'd _wanted_ her to be able to see these horrific surroundings! The concrete walls had once been painted a garish shade of green but that had been peeled away by age, neglect and something else..._flooding_? Jaime could see a water line that went several feet up the now-crumbling walls.

To her left was a counter that would've been waist-high if she'd been standing, with several rusted old cash registers atop it that looked like they'd fall over with the slightest provocation. To her right, bad knock-offs of Tweety Bird, Mickey Mouse and a dog she supposed was meant to represent either Pluto or Goofy hung in a macabre fashion from hooks in the wall, their now-rotten ribbons resembling nooses around their necks. She'd been secured by more of the same heavy chains, with an extra one added around her middle to ensure she wouldn't be going anywhere. Already sensing the futility of the effort, she began to strain at them with everything she was worth. _Lead_, she concluded; they'd been fashioned from lead.

That was when she noticed just what it was that she'd been secured to - designed to induce maximum terror (and it worked). Jaime had been chained to a dentist's chair!


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

''Hi, Russ.'' Mark Conrad greeted his patient quietly as Russ - in spite of several shots of sedation - still pulled violently at the straps that bound his wrists to the bed frame. (His attendants had been forced to secure him when it was obvious that he was growing increasingly angry and violent.)

''Go to hell!'' Russ snapped. Aside from his facial features, he no longer resembled Oscar's capable young right-hand man...and even those features were contorted now with rage.

''I'm guessing you're already there,'' Conrad noted. He pulled a chair up next to the bed, hoping it would facilitate at least some sense of closeness for his frightened, angry patient. ''I'd like to talk with you about it, if that's alright.''

''**NO!**'' Russ shouted emphatically.

''That's okay. I'll talk then; you can just listen. But I'll have to warn you - it can be mighty tiresome listening to me jabber on. Or so I've been told. So...what do I think about all this, since you won't tell me what _you _think? You're confused. You're scared - and you have every right to be. And you're probably at a total loss to explain what's happened to you.''

''Wanna know what I think, _Doctor_? I think any Candy Striper on her very first day could've come up with those platitudes! Nice try.''

''Alright. Then why don't you tell me about the first time you realized something was wrong? Not what someone told you...but when you knew it for yourself.''

Spurred into spitting it out himself by a highly skilled psychiatrist, Russ began to talk...and it seemed to calm him, to give him something to focus on, other than his current predicament. ''When Rudy was taking me out of that conference room, I wasn't sure why...but I knew something bad was happening, if they were having me removed right in the middle of a crisis. The Doc filled me in on some of the rest of it - the forgetfulness, the repetition of questions I'd already asked...''

''And even when he told you, it didn't spark anything in your memory?''

''No,'' Russ admitted. ''Doctor, what's happening to me?''

''I think we've talked a little already about PTSD - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder - and since nothing has shown up on any of your medical tests, we need to examine that possibility more closely.''

''You think I'm crazy,'' Russ stated miserably.

''Far from it. PTSD can be your body's defense mechanism - a way of handling something that's just too much to bear - because however much you've tried to deny it, what those terrorists did to you was more than anyone could cope with. Whether it was explicitly spoken or not, the threat of death was _there_- and brought home with every punch and kick they inflicted on you. Flashbacks, memory problems, avoidance of talking - or even thinking - about the event...trouble concentrating and even extreme anger. They all apply to you...don't they?''

''I...guess so.''

_Now_ they were getting somewhere!

* * *

Jaime gave up on trying to break the chains. She'd expended every ounce of her strength and determination with no results. Now her eyes couldn't help drifting over to the sad stuffed toys on the wall. At one time (how long ago had it been?), this room had been filled with laughter and the pleas of children begging their parents for 'just one' of those dolls. Now the dolls hung in an awful tableau, waiting in vain for children who would never come, never plead for them ever again.

Jaime wondered if the room would soon be filled with a different sort of plea...her own. But she determined in her own mind that she would _**not**_ allow that to happen! What she lacked in so-called 'Resistance Training', she would make up for in sheer stubbornness! In spite of his best efforts - whatever Kingsley might throw at her - she would not allow him the satisfaction he so obviously sought!

* * *

''We _have _to find her, Oscar! There's been no ransom call...so what if this is Cobra, taking revenge for the death of Kingsley? Or even someone else Jaime helped lock up, somewhere down the line?''

''Pal, there's another possibility we have to consider,'' Oscar pointed out (with the greatest of reluctance).

''Don't say it; I know what you're thinking,'' Steve told him. Jaime could've been kidnapped by someone else entirely, solely because of her bionics and with the intention of selling her to the highest bidder - in which case she might simply be _gone_. Forever. ''We have to go on the assumption that she's still alive!'' he insisted. ''And she's waiting for us to find her...before it's too late!''

''Or someone else is waiting...for _you _to come looking.''

''Which is precisely why I have to do that!''

''Forget it, Pal!'' Oscar ordered. ''You can't exactly fight in the condition you're in.'' As much as the decision pained him, he knew that sending Steve out to look for - or even to rescue - Jaime could very likely end with _both _of them being lost.

''I can do my damnedest!''

''You also can't run away - not effectively - without that other arm to help keep your balance,'' Oscar pointed out.

Suddenly, the phone rang. Steve was on it before the second ring. ''Yes - hello!''

''Turn it off of 'speaker','' a voice snarled. ''I'm assuming your boss is there with you - and this conversation is going to be private, if you want your girlfriend to live.''

''There's no speaker here,'' Steve informed the disembodied voice. ''What do you want?''

''It's what _you_ want that's important. You want your girlfriend - or is she your wife - to stay in one piece, right? Well, I'm not with her yet, so I just want you to think about that...for now. I'll call back when I get there...so you can hear her _scream_.''

With that, the line went dead. Steve's eyes were wide with alarm as he turned to Oscar. ''My God...it can't be...'' he whispered.

''Steve...what is it?''

Steve had recognized the voice (as improbable as it seemed that this man could be the source). He'd only heard him speak before for a very short time, but the situation involved made it a voice he'd not soon forget. ''Oscar, that was Kingsley. He's _alive_...and he's got Jaime!''


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Oscar frowned...and his heart sank. It didn't seem possible, but he trusted Steve's abilities and his power of recall. He wished there'd been some way to positively ID the burned bodies in that wrecked jeep - but of course, there wasn't. He'd taken it on faith - they all had - and they'd been _wrong_.

''There has to be some way I can draw him out,'' Steve pondered, ''to find out where he is...''

''You need to stay right here,'' Oscar told him (somewhere between an order and the worried utterance of a dear friend). ''If he calls again, try and keep him on the line as long as possible.''

''I know that,'' Steve affirmed. ''But I'm gonna offer him a trade: myself for Jaime's freedom. He'll still get that power pack and -''

''And you don't really think he'll hold to that agreement...do you?'' Oscar knew Kingsley wouldn't hesitate to kill them both.

''I _have_ to believe it! That's the only way to find her now.''

* * *

Jaime had no other choice but to sit back and await whatever was coming. She closed her eyes, unable to bear looking at the devastation that surrounded her. It seemed like an eternity before she heard footsteps enter the kiosk. ''Open your eyes,'' her tormentor (the one with an all-too-familiar voice that she heard in her nightmares) demanded. ''I want you to _see _everything I'm going to do to you!''

Jaime defiantly kept her eyes tightly closed. There was very little she could do to fight what might be about to happen but she would refuse him every bit of satisfaction that she was able to manage. Nemesis/Kingsley slapped her - hard - across the face...and she reluctantly opened her eyes, glaring at him. ''No one can save you this time,'' he sneered. ''Do you really think your White Knight's gonna ride in on his valiant steed to come to your rescue? Think again. If he does, he'll soon regret it...and so will you! But in the meantime, I'm gonna give you lots to think about. Shame there's no power here; I know how much you enjoyed that drill...but I do have _this_!'' Kingsley brandished a large knife, its blade shining a dark and evil threat. He began poking her menacingly with the tip, not cutting her skin but making sure she _felt_ its dreadful potential. Jaime squirmed involuntarily...and Nemesis laughed. ''When I _do _kill you,'' he told her, ''it'll be nice and slow, so you feel every second of it. But maybe you'll get to watch your lover die first. Let's call him, shall we?''

From the bag he'd carried in with him, Nemesis extracted a large, bulky portable phone...and dialed a number. Jaime heard Oscar answer the phone...and it gave her just the smallest smidgen of hope. They were at her house; they knew she'd been taken and would hopefully be looking for her now. She wasn't sure how much of this man's cruelty she could endure.

''Oscar Goldman speaking. Who is this?''

''For you, that's not important. For Austin...it's everything. So put him on the phone. _Now._''

''This is Colonel Austin.'' Jaime's heart pounded harder at the sound of his voice.

''_Colonel_, is it? Well, Colonel...I have someone here that wants to talk to you.'' Nemesis held the phone to Jaime's face...and she pursed her lips stubbornly and remained silent. Nemesis pressed the blade of the knife directly to her throat and pressed just hard enough to draw blood (without incapacitating or fatally injuring her). Still Jaime refused to make a sound...so he slapped her again, even harder this time. On the other end of the line, Steve cringed - and his blood boiled - at the sound.

''Steve...?'' Jaime finally said in a shaky, tentative voice.

''Sweetheart, hang on!'' he pleaded...but Nemesis had taken the phone back, all to himself again.

''That's all you need to hear for now. _Colonel_, I assume you have a car phone?''

''Yes.''

''Give me the number,'' Nemesis demanded - and Steve complied. ''Very wise choice. Now listen carefully - because her life depends on it. Get in your car and start driving South on Highway Five. I'll call you soon with further directions. Oh, and Steve? I have men monitoring every radio channel - state and local police, the highway patrol - and your OSI. Yes, even the so-called scrambled channels. If I hear even a hint that you've alerted them in any way, _she dies_...slowly and with more pain than you can possibly imagine. Got it?''

''I understand,'' Steve confirmed. ''I'm on my way.''

Nemesis hung up even before Steve did. ''Looks like your White Knight is coming, after all,'' he told Jaime, throwing his head back with a particularly evil laugh.

Back at the house, Steve was already halfway out the door. ''I can't tell you, Oscar - and please don't have me followed. Jaime's life depends on it!''

* * *

Steve had already driven almost an hour, with no further word from Kingsley...or Jaime. He stayed on Highway Five, as directed, willing the phone to ring...and praying Oscar had listened and not had him followed. He couldn't stand to picture what Kingsley might be doing to Jaime! The sound of the slap had been unbearable for him - and likely very painful for Jaime, as its intensity had carried clearly through the phone line. Steve knew Kingsley had far worse than that up his sleeve. _Hang on, Jaime_ he kept pleading in his head. _Please...hang on!_


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

They'd only been talking for about 10 minutes when Mark Conrad noticed something alarming. Russ's eyes seemed to blank out...and he became almost a different person. Not angry this time, but very confused.

''What the...how did I get here?'' Russ stammered. His foot throbbed badly...and he had no idea _why_. ''What the hell happened to my foot?'' he puzzled.

''You don't remember coming here?'' Mark asked gently. Russ shook his head, his eyes wildly confused as he took it all in. ''You...uh...shot yourself in the foot. Don't try to walk on it; it's pretty nasty. Russ...what's the last thing you _do _remember?''

''I...um...I think I was in a motel - and you and Steve brought me breakfast.''

''That's right.'' Conrad noted to himself that the violence Russ had exhibited seemed to be a blank spot in his memory. This could be good...or very bad. ''We knocked you out and brought you here...but when we sprayed the knockout gas, you fired your weapon - it had actually been aimed at us - and you shot yourself in the foot.''

''I...had a gun on you? My God...what's happening to me?''

''That's what we're going to figure out,'' Mark promised.

* * *

Jaime lay helpless, chained to the dental chair, and focused on the unwanted and abandoned toys on the wall, to try and remove herself from what was really happening to her. Nemesis continued to torture her with the knife, poking just hard enough for her to definitely feel it (and for it to _hurt_)...but not hard enough to draw blood. Every time he saw her close her eyes, he poked the sharp tip into the soft flesh of her throat, threatening her, until she opened her eyes and looked at him again. He sneered in her face and keep tormenting her, enjoying her terror as only one who is truly psychotic could do.

''What's it gonna feel like, when I press a little harder?'' he said with an evil laugh. ''Can't you just imagine it? But that can wait until your lover gets here. I want him to hear you scream out in pain. But for now, just picture how it'll feel...'' He held the knife directly in front of Jaime's face, where the blade shined it's promise of pain and death right where she could see it...and Nemesis laughed as she tried to cower away from it. He was getting to her...and nothing could make him happier.

* * *

Steve's car phone rang...and he picked up immediately. ''Yes, I'm here,'' he said. ''Almost to San Diego.''

''Good. Now, are you familiar with the old FunWorld theme park, just outside Octotillo?'' Nemesis demanded.

''It's been closed for years, ever since Hurricane Kathleen,'' Steve responded. (Surely he wouldn't be holed up _there_, in that desolate, awful place.)

''That's the one. Once you get here, go through the main entrance - and you'll find us by hearing _her _screams and cries for help.''

''Look...don't hurt her anymore...please -''

Nemesis laughed maniacally. ''It's too late for that. And you'd better hurry; there's not much left of her...''

* * *

Mark Conrad surreptitiously pressed the call light; Michael should know about this (even though he was now convinced more than ever that PTSD was the cause of Russ's problems). Soon, Michael stood in the doorway, listening quietly.

''I...I'm so sorry,'' Russ stammered. ''I never meant -''

''We know. Violence isn't _in _you,'' Mark said quietly. ''That's why you're here.''

''And...these?'' Russ asked, pulling lightly on the restraints.

''You fought to try and get out of here. They had no other choice.''

''Help me...please?'' Russ requested..._finally_.

* * *

Steve pulled his car into the empty lot, overgrown with weeds and underbrush that poked insistently through the cracks in the pavement. Nature had destroyed the once busy, popular park...and nature was now reclaiming it. Barbed wire surrounded the entrance but Steve found an opening that appeared man-made, where (he assumed) Kingsley or his cohorts had entered...with Jaime.

The place was filled with an eerie silence...and Steve broke it. ''I'm here, Kingsley!'' he called. ''You got what you wanted! Now let her go; even trade!''

The midway and the rides had been damaged beyond repair by at least four feet of sludge water, several years earlier...and the park had been deemed too expensive to repair or even to tear down. So there it remained, a target now for vandals, the occasional sightseer...and lunatics like Grant Kingsley. Really, it was the perfect setting for what he had in mind, with what used to be an invitation to fun and laughter crumbling and decaying like a broken, discarded toy. Steve couldn't stand thinking of Jaime, helpless somewhere in this awful place.

''C'mon, Kingsley! Here I am! My life for hers; take it or leave it! You can have my damned power pack; just let Jaime go!''

Steve didn't possess Jaime's exceptional hearing, so he never heard the two men who snuck up behind him...until one of them zapped his fractured left arm with the full power of a taser. Shocked and in agony, Steve sank to the ground...and was easily overcome by the two men, who dragged him toward a graffiti-covered, crumbling kiosk. The prayer that Jaime had been clinging to - that Oscar would keep Steve from coming, that somehow he'd be spared the horrors being inflicted upon her - had been denied.


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Kingsley's men threw Steve roughly onto the concrete floor of the kiosk. His body still twitched from the force of the shock to his already badly injured arm. Jaime's eyes filled with tears. ''Well now, welcome to our little party, _Colonel_,'' Nemesis chortled, spitting out Steve's title as though it were an obscenity. He turned to Jaime, relishing in the fact that he'd finally brought her to tears. ''_That's_ what I like to see. I guess I know how to get to you now...don't I? She's been quite brave, _Colonel_. Not a sound or a single tear out of her, no matter what I did to her. But _this_...'' he raised his boot and landed a solid kick to Steve's broken ribcage. ''_This_is how to hurt the little lady the most!''

Indeed, just as Nemesis has wished, Jaime cried out in anguish and terror. ''Stop it!'' she pleaded. Nemesis merely grinned...and kicked Steve again. Jaime pulled hard against her chains, but it was no use.

Nemesis threw his head back again and laughed uproariously. ''I'll have the power pack soon enough,'' he told them. ''But let's have a little fun first...shall we?'' He didn't bother to chain or secure Steve, who had clearly been incapacitated by pain.

Steve saw their tormentor had spotted his datacom...and just as it was taken away, he managed to press the red (**need help NOW**) button. He hoped with everything in him now that Oscar had ignored his directive not to follow him. It was equipped with a locator...but if help was truly over two hours away, either he or Jaime (or both) would likely be dead before anyone found them! In the meantime, to buy time until help could get to them, they _had_ to get out of that kiosk! He tried to recover enough of his strength (and his wits) to come up with a plan. If Jaime hadn't broken her bonds, they'd probably been fashioned of lead...or titanium...but maybe there was a way. There _had_ to be!

Nemesis moved back to Jaime and once again held the blade mere inches from her face. ''Don't worry,'' he said with a menacing sneer, ''I'll still keep my promise. You're gonna _feel_ this...when I kill you - _real slow_. But first you get to watch _him _die!'' He'd decided to reverse his original plan (of forcing Steve to watch while he disposed of the woman) when he saw the lovely (to him) emotions that hurting the man she loved evoked in her.

''Please...'' Jaime whispered. It was all she could manage, as her throat nearly closed in panic.

''Kingsley,'' Steve said evenly, ''you've got me. You'll get your damn power pack. I'll show you where to cut; hell, I'll even cut it out for you...if you just let her go.''

''I think I'll take my chances. A few cuts and I'll eventually find it for myself. Might be a little..._bloody_, searching that way...but all the more fun. Right, Little Lady?'' Jaime was struggling to hold back her tears, having seen how it spurred him on, so she merely glared at him. ''But you know what?'' Kingsley continued. ''Never let it be said that I'm not a compassionate man. I'll give you a few minutes to say your goodbyes. But I'd strongly advise you not to try anything stupid; I'll be right outside the only door.''

It was the chance Steve had been waiting for! As soon as Nemesis/Kingsley has stepped outside (and out of sight), he forced himself to his feet and painfully made his way to where Jaime lay bound to the chair. He'd been right; working alone, he was unable to break the chains. ''Sweetheart,'' he whispered in a nearly inaudible voice that he hoped would penetrate her terror, ''I think we can break these...if we work together. Can you try?'' (He wasn't sure how badly their captor had harmed her, but he prayed she was still able to pull it together and use her bionics; it was their only hope.) Slowly, Jaime nodded. ''Okay,'' he whispered, ''I'll pull on the chains and I need you to kick your legs apart - as hard as you can. Are you ready?'' Jaime nodded again, too badly frightened to speak. ''Alright...let's do it! Now!'' It was still almost too much for them...but slowly the links began to give and pull apart. Freeing her arms would be a little trickier...but thankfully they were chained separately, each to an arm of the chair. ''Okay - now do the same with your right arm. Ready? Go!'' That chain, too, gave way under the combined force of their strength. ''Now your left,'' he instructed quickly. (They were likely running out of time.) Jaime reached over with her right arm and helped Steve break that chain too, then together they freed her from the last of her bonds, the one around her waist.

''We can't go out the door,'' Steve continued. ''And I don't have the leverage to kick out the back wall...but I think you do. It's concrete, but it's crumbling. It should give way pretty easily. Once we get outside, he'll _know _right away when he hears the wall break...so we've got to run like hell. We'll try to stay together, but if we get separated, just listen for my voice. Okay - let's go!''

Jaime drew back, gathered all of her strength and courage, and took a flying leap into the concrete rear wall, hitting it with both legs and fashioning just enough of an opening for them to slip through and _run_. Almost immediately, Kingsley and his cronies rounded the corner of the kiosk, firing their weapons. As much as they'd intended to stay together, Jaime and Steve lost sight of each other as they zigged, zagged and swerved to try and avoid the barrage of bullets. She seemed to be in the clear, on the other side of a rusted-out, falling apart flat spinner ride, when suddenly she felt a burning pain in her side...and she couldn't run anymore. Kingsley and his men caught up to her quickly...and she felt the jolt of a taser in the small of her back...completely incapacitating her. She bit her tongue, forcing herself not to call out a warning to Steve (knowing it would bring him back to her...and at least - for now - he was free).

The men lifted her roughly, forcing her to walk/be dragged between them with the taser to her back and Kingsley's gun to her head. Instead of taking her back to the kiosk, they were leading her toward the center of the park.

''Aw, you're bleeding, poor thing,'' Nemesis laughed. ''Just wait til you see what I'm gonna do to you now!''


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Once again, Jaime had been rendered completely helpless...and since she had no idea where Steve was, she had no way of letting him know. If he was close though and she shouted out a warning, she knew he'd try to come to her rescue - and she simply couldn't allow that. The park, as she was being dragged through it, gave her goosebumps...and a really creepy, hopeless feeling. Some rides had been removed (probably sold and reconstructed in another park), with only their concrete 'footings' remaining. But most of the rides had been left damaged - rusting and decaying - exactly where they stood. The smaller kiosks (as opposed to the size of the one they'd been held in) had either collapsed entirely or were missing half of their supports and tilted with the threat of imminent collapse.

Graffiti seemed to be covering the walls of all of the kiosks and the 'dark rides' and fun houses, evidence of the 'urban explorers' who had been there before them. Water lines were everywhere; the muddy water had 'only' risen to about four feet...but the damage it had caused was irrevocable - and heartbreaking. Jaime could just picture the hordes of happy customers who had crowded the once-busy and popular park, with every ride and shop that they passed. She wondered idly where they might be taking her now...and (thankfully, in her mind) they saw no sign of Steve.

''Not to worry,'' Nemesis taunted (seeming to read her mind), ''we'll find your lover. I guarantee it.''

* * *

Steve had heard the gunshots, of course...and he could only pray that (like him) Jaime had escaped unscathed. There was still no sign of Oscar or his teams. He knew that if she'd been hurt, he needed to find Jaime and help her stay hidden. If (God forbid) she'd been recaptured...well, he _had_ to find her then too, even though he knew she wouldn't want him to. He made his way back to the kiosk with the grim, abandoned dolls inside...but the dentist's chair was empty. As he ran through the park, he kept trying to call out to her, in a whisper, but there was no trace of her anywhere...and no further sightings of Kingsley or his crew. Steve knew with a growing sense of awful certainty that this was a terribly ominous sign...

* * *

''They're somewhere between San Diego and Octotillo,'' Oscar called into his car radio. ''_**Hurry!**_'' The locator signal for help (which transmitted even if the device was turned off) was growing stronger. Wherever Steve was (and hopefully where Jaime was, too), they were definitely getting closer. He'd ordered his teams to follow when Steve had been summoned by Kingsley...but at a far enough distance that the psychotic man they sought would have no idea they were coming. Now that distance was working against them...and Oscar could only pray that they might reach his friends in time!

* * *

Steve's careful eye was scanning his surroundings - both in front of him and on the ground (hoping maybe Jaime had left some sort of signal) but he signal he finally found chilled him to the core...and broke his heart. _Blood_. Not a lot of it...but enough to be alarming. And it was _fresh_! It could've been Kingsley's...but Steve's instinct knew differently. Jaime had been hurt...and she wasn't answering him or following his whispered calls to her. She'd been recaptured - and she wasn't in the kiosk. _What was Kingsley planning now?!_

* * *

Jaime could feel herself growing weaker. The fashion in which they were dragging her meant she couldn't bend down enough to _see_ the wound. She guessed though that the blood loss wasn't too bad - although it was steady - but the _pain_ was incredible! Still, they kept on walking, forcing her along. _Where_ were they taking her? They'd passed through several themed areas of the park - a sort of 'Main Street', then a section of 'dark rides' - where the figures that grinned from atop them seemed to be leering with horrific promise, rather than the fun they'd once advertised. One had toppled from its weakened structure to the ground - and now laid there, partially cracked and broken but its eyes still staring. To Jaime, that one didn't promise or represent horror; its grin was one of total destruction...and _death_.

They passed through another section, one where waves had been painted onto the concrete pavement and where the water rides still stood, remarkably still intact (save for the water lines on the lower structural beams). There was a (water-themed) Scrambler-type ride, with most of the cars detached now and rusting on the ground below the 'arms'. Finally, when they'd reached the end of the 'water' section and were nearing the back of the park, Kingsley stopped and his men threw Jaime to the ground, where she could look up at what was intended to be her final destination. It was a wooden roller coaster, aptly named The Cobra. (Although Kingsley was aware - from monitoring the OSI's datacom transmissions - of the nickname that had been bestowed upon his group, Jaime didn't know this...and the choice couldn't have been more ironic.)

He sneered down at her, then pointed to the very top of the decrepit lift hill. ''_This is where you __**die**__!_ And since I'm sure your _lover _will try to come to your rescue, the same will happen to him!''

Jaime could - _finally_- hear Steve's voice whispering to her but she was just too weak (and nearly paralyzed with fear) to be able to answer...


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

His men began to pick Jaime up, to carry her toward The Cobra coaster...but Kingsley stopped them. ''That old wood isn't gonna support all of our weight,'' he told them. He looked down at Jaime with an evil laugh. The last of the fight had clearly been drained out of her. ''I'll take her up myself; that should be safe enough. And I can handle her now.''

''What about the chains?'' the crony who had lugged them along wondered.

''There's more waiting for us up there. That's why I don't want all of you making the climb with us. You see, guys, I always plan ahead.''

Jaime was only barely conscious (from shock and pain as much as from blood loss) but managed to look directly into her tormentor's eyes as he lifted her and began to carry her toward the coaster's loading area...and the lift hill. She'd hoped that by doing so, she might reach whatever bit of humanity was left in him, touching him with her silent plea and convincing him not to...do whatever it was he was intending for her. Instead, she found his eyes glittering with the excitement of psychosis; there was not a shred of humanity - or _mercy _- in him. Kingsley carried Jaime up the steps to the station (avoiding the rotted ones), laid her on the platform and pulled a scalpel from his pocket. ''A knife just won't do for this...will it?'' he chortled, holding the instrument where she could see it and reveling in her mute terror. He then made a long slice down most of her right arm, quickly located the desired power pack...and sliced the wires, removing it. ''Great work, Doctor Wells,'' he said softly. It was as small (miniaturized, really) as he'd hoped - and would suit his soon-to-be-completed invention perfectly.

Kingsley lifted Jaime's now-ravaged body again...and began the slow climb up the lift hill. _**What**__ is he planning to do to me?_ Jaime wondered. He'd mentioned chains; was he going to chain her up...and toss her down the other side of the hill - or over the edge?

* * *

''Jaime...'' she heard Steve whisper. (he must be _close!_) ''I know you're hurt. I'm trying to find you. I'm underneath the log ride now; will wait here a few minutes, if you can get to me. Then I'll keep looking. I'll find you, Sweetheart...''

_No, Steve,_ Jaime pleaded silently to herself. _Please don't look for me! He'll only kill you too!_Then her ear picked up another sound - further away but (for her) impossible to miss: what sounded like a fleet of cars squealing into the parking lot and screeching to a halt.

Then, very soon after, a voice on a bullhorn: **Oscar! **''Kingsley! We know you're in there! Let Jaime and Steve go - send them out to the parking lot - or we're coming in and it'll be a whole lot worse for you!''

Kingsley chuckled at what he perceived as Oscar's naivete. ''It'll take 'em awhile to get back here,'' he told Jaime. ''They won't reach you in time. And even if they do, when they send a team up here to get you...the wood won't stand the strain. And then..._splat!_'' He felt Jaime shiver in his arms. ''You just figured it out, didn't you? What I'm gonna do to you? And here we are - your perch while you wait to die!''

His plan was exceptionally hideous. By design, the coaster had precious little space at the top of the hill before its train of cars began plunging down the drop. When the ride had been operational, most of the train of cars would already have begun the plunge before the rear cars had reached the top...except now there were no cars. There was only Jaime...and she'd be waiting tenuously at the crest of the hill. Securing himself to the railing with his belt (to prevent taking a plunge of his own), he leaned over Jaime's prone body and wrapped her with the heavy chains. Maybe she no longer had the strength to break them...but Steve did. Kingsley was counting on Steve's need to play the hero for the woman he loved, which would likely send both of them hurtling to their deaths...if Jaime lasted that long!

''If you even _try_ to struggle,'' he sneered, ''you'll be taking quite a barrel roll. And if your lover tries to break the chains...SPLAT!...for _both_ of you! Oh, and you'd better start praying those men who are about to start swarming the place don't find you and cause the wood to break under their feet...even though it'd be a special treat to take so many down with you, wouldn't it? Goodbye, Jaime,'' he called over his shoulder as he began to make his way back down. ''_Permanently_.''

He wouldn't be in the park to hear her final scream of terror - and he regretted that - but he'd already fashioned an exit for himself that he was sure the 'Rescue' teams would miss. Still, he'd hear the aftermath as he monitored their transmissions - and that would be satisfying enough.

From where she was lying, Jaime only had to turn her head to see the intensely steep drop on either side of her. _What if I pass out?_ she thought, making every possible effort to stay conscious and remain perfectly still. _But maybe I should just __**fall**__...before anyone ends up falling with me..._ She also knew that no matter how still she might be able to remain - and even if Steve (or Oscar's teams) managed to find her, missing a power pack she had only 90 minutes or less to live...

* * *

With no response from Kingsley, Oscar's men cut a wider hole in the chain link and began pouring into the park, with Oscar taking the lead. He'd brought enough teams with him to start down every available path, to cover the entire park as quickly as possible. A medevac had also landed in the parking lot, with both Rudy and Michael aboard. Steve and Jaime would need immediate medical attention, Oscar guessed...if they hadn't arrived too late.


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

''Has Grant Kingsley attempted to contact you?'' Michael asked, stepping out of the doorway and closer to Russ's bed.

''Kingsley...from Cobra? No. Why?''

''Just needed to know. If he does, you'll let us know - right away?''

''Of course,'' Russ confirmed.

''How's your foot feel?'' Michael asked.

''Hurts like hell.''

''I have something for you that should help. Then I'll leave you and Mark alone to talk.''

* * *

Oscar's men (and more teams, from the NSB) canvassed the park...and quickly found Steve. ''Where's Jaime?'' Oscar asked him.

''We got away from Kingsley together, but then they started shooting...and we got separated. Oscar, I found _blood_ - fresh blood. She's been hurt; I just _know _it.''

''And you think Kingsley got her,'' Oscar concluded.

''I don't _want _to think that...but yeah. I've been all over the park, whispering for her, with no answer. If she was shot, they probably caught up to her.''

''We'll find her, Pal. And keep on trying to reach her. Call us on the datacom if you -''

''I don't have it; Kingsley took it.''

Oscar took a datacom from a member of his team and handed it to Steve. ''If he's got yours, he's likely to be listening in, so try to make sure she's safe before you transmit.'' He knew that with Steve's eye, it was probable that he'd find Jaime first. ''We'll let you know the same, if we find her,'' he promised.

''Oscar? We need to _hurry_!''

* * *

Jaime had made up her mind. She was going to die anyway...and sending herself hurtling down the hill would be quicker and more merciful - without taking anyone else with her. But she found that Kingsley had been wrong; struggling would not send her down the hill...as she was simply too weak to move against the heavy chains...

* * *

Oscar stayed with Steve while his teams fanned out again, intensifying the search. ''Oscar...he's gonna kill her...'' Steve said with deep anguish. ''If he hasn't already...''

Suddenly, the datacom sprang to life. ''We found her, Oscar!'' one of the men called. ''She's at the very top of the wooden roller coaster - the one called The Cobra, in the back of the park. We're going up now.''

''My God...'' Steve murmured. ''The _Cobra!_''

* * *

Jaime heard the cracking of the rotted wood before she saw the search team. She turned her head just in time to see one of the men fall through a new hole in the lift hill. The others were carefully making their way around the spot that was covered now only by the lift chain. With some of the supports broken away, Jaime could feel the wooden slats beneath her beginning to sag.

''Stop!'' she called as urgently as her waning strength would allow. ''It's gonna collapse!''

Steve had reached the coaster at bionic speed - and he heard Jaime's warning plea. ''I'll get her!'' He told the team, who'd frozen in place, unsure of whether to go up...or down. Hearing Steve, they headed back to the platform and then onto solid ground. ''I'm coming, Sweetheart,'' he called up to Jaime. ''Hang on!''

''Steve...please...NO!'' Jaime called down. She was rapidly fading from consciousness now and would then likely roll down the hill. The last thing she wanted was for anyone - especially Steve - to try and climb the now-crumbling structure...and go down with her.

Of course, Steve began the climb anyway. He made the leap over the missing section of track, aiming his landing for a portion that appeared the most sturdy. The coaster still shook at the impact but seemed to still hold...and Steve rapidly (but cautiously) made his way up to Jaime. The first thing he saw (aside from the chains) was the gaping hole in her right arm.

''Steve...'' Jaime began (barely able to even speak), ''you need...to go back down. If you...try to break the chains...I can't help you...and we're both gonna fall. The wood...it's breaking. Please...just go...''

_The __**hell**__ I will!_ Steve thought to himself. Almost automatically, he knew what he had to do. If she couldn't help him break the chains, there still might be a way...and he _had _to try! He could feel the wood swaying and starting to buckle beneath them; they were running out of time...and one look at Jaime told him she was almost out of time too. Bracing himself as best he could, he reached down and very quickly scooped her up with his good arm and then started back down the lift hill. He very nearly lost his footing (and was forced to jump) several times as the wood beneath them gave way, but by sheer determination he reached the bottom of the hill...and began the fastest bionic run of his life, toward the entrance and the waiting chopper (with Jaime lying limp and unresponsive now) over his shoulder.

Rudy and Michael (alerted by Oscar's transmission when he saw Steve running past carrying Jaime) were waiting outside the medevac chopper. Rudy was pale and a bit weak on his feet...but he'd insisted on being there to help Jaime (and Steve too, if he needed it). Steve brought Jaime to them and laid her gently on the waiting gurney. ''Her power pack's gone,'' he told them urgently. ''And she's been shot.''

They couldn't get to the bullet wound to examine and treat it because of the chains. ''Can you break them?'' Michael asked.

''I can try...but it took both of us the first time.'' This time, instead of pulling on the chains themselves, Steve snaked a finger into one of the links and pulled for all he was worth. It worked. With on link broken, he was able to unwrap the chains around her waist and legs - and then he did the same to the other chain, freeing her completely from her bonds.

''She won't make it to the hospital,'' Rudy announced. It was impossible to tell if she'd merely passed out from the pain - or if blood loss or the missing power pack had caused Jaime's current condition, but she was fading rapidly, right before their eyes. ''We'll have to stabilize her here,'' he concluded.

Michael had already ducked into the chopper and returned with the spare power pack and necessary tools. Working as quickly as was humanly possible, they repaired the damaged wires and replaced her power pack. Still, Jaime lay silent and unresponsive on the gurney.

''Let's get her in the chopper and get going,'' Michael told them. _I hope to God we got to her in time._

* * *

Kingsley was able to quickly insert the needed power pack and complete his 'project'. He was dismayed to discover that his target was currently in the hospital - and likely heavily guarded - but no matter. He would find a way. The prototype had worked its magic...and his newly-completed invention would finish the job.

* * *

END of Episode 6. To be continued - in same story - with Episode 7


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16(Episode 7)

''How are her vital signs?'' Rudy asked. His portion of Jaime's care (the insertion of the new power pack) had been completed...and due to the fact that he wasn't looking too well himself, Michael had insisted he seat himself against the wall of the chopper, propped up with cushions.

''Very low...and still slipping,'' Michael said grimly. ''What's the ETA to National?''

''Twenty minutes - and I'm flying at full throttle,'' the pilot called back.

Steve swung off of his own gurney, moved painfully to Jaime's side and gently kissed her forehead. ''Hang on, Sweetheart,'' he pleaded once again. ''You're going to be okay.''

''And _you_ need to lie back down, please,'' Michael told him gently. He understood Steve's deep need to be with Jaime now, but he'd also seen how difficult it was for him to move. Steve had refused all but the most cursory examination, insisting that both doctors tend to Jaime instead. But even upon such a quick exam, Michael knew that Steve's broken ribs had taken another brutal beating...and for now he could only hope that the compound fracture they'd repaired on his arm hadn't been re-injured as well. It was amazing that he'd managed to carry Jaime through the entire park to where help had been waiting...but Michael knew the power of love could overcome almost anything, even (when necessary) intense pain. For now, Steve had been given a powerful pain shot that necessitated keeping him on his gurney, so Michael and a medic pushed the two gurneys closer together...allowing Steve to be able to hold Jaime's hand.

* * *

In his own hired chopper, Nemesis/Kingsley was also speeding toward National Medical Center. He knew the doctors were flying their patients there too, but he figured he had about a half hour head start on them. Hopefully it would be enough time for him to locate his subject...and complete his plans.

* * *

''How long do they think I'll have to be here?'' Russ asked Mark Conrad.

''Until we figure out what's going on and are able to treat you for it,'' Mark replied.

''That long? Damn...'' Russ's eyes were beginning to droop and Mark knew the medication Michael had given him was taking effect. ''We'll talk more later,'' he promised. ''You get some rest now, okay?''

His patient was already fast asleep.

* * *

Michael glanced over at Rudy and saw that he was growing even paler. It was too soon for another dose of propranolol...but he handed the older doctor a nitro tablet. ''Take this,'' he instructed.

''I'm _fine_, Michael,'' Rudy insisted.

''_Take it now!_''

Rudy complied, placing the tablet under his tongue to dissolve. ''She have any improvement yet?'' he asked.

''No. But she seems to have stabilized.'' _Love can definitely accomplish miracles_, he thought to himself. Michael leaned close to Jaime's right ear. ''Jaime...can you hear me?'' he asked. There was no reply...not even a change in her vital signs to indicate that his voice had reached her.

* * *

Nemesis moved quickly through the hospital, a canister of knock out gas in one pocket and his completed device in the other. When he came upon an orderly, he pulled out the canister and sprayed him in the face before the man had a chance to react...then Nemesis dragged him into a nearby supply closet, stole his lab coat and tied him up tightly with a spare electrical cord he found on one of the shelves. After donning the coat, he guessed (correctly) that his target might be up on the Bionics floor, where security was tighter. He pushed the orderly's cart up to the big double doors and surprisingly was allowed entry without question, due to the ID badge pinned to the lab coat. From there, it was easy to find his target.

''Just refreshing the water pitcher,'' he told the guards at the door...and he was waved inside. With the supplies on the cart, he made sure to actually tend to the pitcher (just in case the guards were watching...which they were). Then, hidden from their sight by the lab coat and his own back (as he was turned away from them and toward the bed), he removed the device, pointed it at his target...and hit the trigger. There was no noise to alert the guards, merely an indicator light that told Nemesis his mission had been accomplished. While the larger, bulkier prototype had been aimed from a distance, it had begun serving its intended purpose a few days earlier, causing increasing blank spots in the target's memory, making him 'ripe for the picking' with the new device. Nemesis smiled to himself; he now could control the target's movements and actions, any time he chose. No chip that could be detected in a brain scan had been needed. He truly was a genius. Satisfied, he turned around and strolled back out of the room and down the hall in the ambling fashion of a real orderly, before slipping out the back door and out of sight.

* * *

''Let's get her to OR-1,'' Michael ordered, ''as fast as you can wheel the gurney. We need to get that bullet...and find out what sort of damage it caused. Take Colonel Austin to OR-2 and alert his surgeon that he may have been re-fractured. And get Doctor Wells up to a bed and alert his cardiologist,'' Michael continued as he ran after Jaime's gurney. ''Standard dose of propranolol in one hour, if the cardiologist hasn't gotten here yet. And more nitro in the meantime, if there's any change in his condition.''

Oscar was waiting for them outside of OR-1 (having taken yet another chopper that had arrived just before the medevac). ''How is she, Michael?'' he asked anxiously.

''She's deeply comatose; I'll do all that I can...but I need to get in there now.'' Between Jaime's blood loss, shock and however long she'd been without the power pack, Michael hoped that 'all he could do' would be enough to save her.


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Nemesis may have been out of sight of Security...but with binoculars he could still see the window of Russ's room. It was time to see if he'd truly accomplished what he believed that he had. He entered '01' on the device's tiny keypad; since he only had one target - _so far _- that made the target's frequency '01'. When new targets were added, new frequencies would be used for each...so he could command his entire (intended) army at will.

''Wake up, break those restraints - you _can_ do it - and go to the window,'' he commanded into the miniature speaker. Within less than a minute, Russ had complied - on an injured foot and out of what Nemesis guessed had been a sedated slumber! ''Very good; you may return to your bed and rest now,'' he transmitted. And with that, the figure in the window was gone...and Nemesis was jubilant.

* * *

Oscar paced the short hallway between ORs 1 and 2...and that was where Mark Conrad found him. ''I just heard,'' he told Oscar. ''How are they?''

''Steve's surgeon hasn't come out yet, so I assume his compound fracture was re-injured. And Jaime...'' Oscar could barely get the words out. ''She's critical.''

''I'm sorry. How are you holding up?''

''Two of my best friends are in those operating rooms; one of them is fighting for her _life_! How the hell do you think I'm doing?'' Oscar took a deep breath. ''I'm sorry, Mark. I know you're just doing your job.''

''No, not really. Not right now. They're my friends too - and so are you. Let's sit down, before you drop from exhaustion.''

Steve's surgeon was (of course) the first to finally emerge. ''The compound fracture broke through the skin again, worse this time. I've repaired the damage, reset the arm...and he should be okay.''

''Thank you,'' Oscar told him, shaking his hand. He and Mark sat back down outside of OR-1, hoping for any news about Jaime. It would be a long wait.

* * *

Nemesis needed a new headquarters/hide out and he found one that was midway between National Medical...and Jaime's house. He would take his time waiting for precisely the right moment to use his device again - and the results would be well worth the wait. Meanwhile, he could use the time to decide who would become Subject 02. There were so many _interesting_ choices!

* * *

Rudy's cardiologist was the next doctor to find Oscar. ''He's finally resting comfortably,'' he told Mark and Oscar. ''He had another 'incident'...but thankfully not a full-on cardiac arrest. Still, he's at high risk for one - and he knows it. He's asked to talk with you. Later, when you've received word about Miss Sommers and when he's awakened from sedation.''

Oscar nodded thoughtfully. He could guess what was on Rudy's mind. The doctor didn't fear death...but if this latest incident had put any sort of fear into his mind, it would be what would happen to Steve and Jaime, if something happened to _him_. Oscar found himself wondering exactly the same thing.

It was still hours later before Michael finally emerged from OR-1. ''She's stable now...and that's the best news I have. We were able to remove the bullet and while it thankfully missed her vital organs, there was extensive tissue damage...and considerable loss of blood.''

''Will she live?'' Oscar asked.

''I hope so. She's still critical, but...I hope so. And I understand Steve is already awake and asking to see her. Normally I'd insist he wait until at least tomorrow before allowing him out of bed, even in a wheelchair...but given the circumstances, we're going to take him in there as soon as she's settled up in ICU.''

* * *

''Hi, Gorgeous,'' Steve said softly from his wheelchair as he stared at Jaime's deathly-pale face. Defying his doctors' admonitions (and since they'd left the room to allow him some privacy), he rose from the chair and perched carefully on the edge of her bed, leaning in for a tender kiss on her lips. ''I _need_ you, Jaime...and we have a wedding to plan, so you have to wake up so we can get to it. After all, you don't want _me _picking out your dress...do you?'' But the loving gesture - and the teasing words - had absolutely no effect.

At least, Steve didn't think they'd had any effect. Jaime had found herself trapped in a nightmare that (because of her comatose state) she was helpless to escape from. Dream-Kingsley had her at the top of the lift hill but instead of chaining her, he grabbed her by her feet and held her over the railing, dangling her so she had no choice but to see the ground below her! ''We'll just wait like this for your lover,'' the dream-Kingsley had taunted. ''Unless I lose my grip, of course.'' Soon, though, dream-Steve appeared directly below where she dangled helplessly, calling out her name instead of whispering to her...but he never looked up. Dream-Kingsley laughed...and released his grip on Jaime's feet, sending her hurtling toward the ground (so far below)...and directly toward dream-Steve's head.

Only Steve's tender gesture and loving words from her bedside saved Jaime from viewing what would've happened next. Although she couldn't open her eyes (or even signal that she'd heard him) he'd come to her rescue once again...and he didn't even know it.


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Michael (finally out of the OR and fortified by a cup of coffee) went to check on his other patient. Russ was still sleeping soundly...but _his restraints had been removed_ - and not simply removed. They were torn, almost as if bionically. It would've taken nearly super-human strength or the equivalent determination; it should _not _have been possible. But Russ was still under the influence of the sedation/pain meds. Who had done this...and why?

Michael paged Mark Conrad and they met in Michael's office. ''We've got a problem,'' he began. Mark was as stunned as Michael, when he heard what had happened - and equally confused. ''How...?''

''I don't know,'' Michael admitted. ''But we're going to have to keep him sedated - _heavily sedated _- until we figure this out.''

Mark nodded. ''And we need to tell Oscar.''

''I need to check on Jaime again...then I'll tell him,'' Michael promised.

* * *

Steve was still sitting in his wheelchair next to Jaime's bed, silently holding her hand and wishing he could project some of his own strength into her pale, weakened body. Michael really would've rather have had Steve resting in his own bed (since he was not long out of surgery himself), but with Jaime in critical condition, he didn't have the heart to deny Steve this time with her.

''Any change, that you've seen?'' Michael asked quietly from the door, before stepping in to examine his patient.

''Nothing. Not a sound; she hasn't even moved,'' Steve told him.

''I can have the nurse bring your pain meds in here, when it's time...but if you start to feel too tired or the pain is too much -''

''I need to be with her, Michael. I'll be okay.''

''And how's the pain?'' Michael asked.

''It's...pain. I'm almost used to it now. I'll be fine.''

Michael finished checking Jaime's monitors, her IV drip, oxygen level and vital signs and then turned to check Steve's vitals too. ''You're _not _'fine'...but I know how badly you want to be here; for now, I won't stand in your way. But if you feel the need to rest, the nurses can come and get you if there's any change.''

Steve nodded his response, his attention focused solely on Jaime.

* * *

Nemesis had chosen his next target and now it would be a matter of isolating him, finding him alone so he could use to the prototype to blank out his brain sufficiently for the new invention to turn him into Subject 02. Of course, he could simply aim the prototype at National Medical and blank out everyone in its path, but he wasn't ready to create his planned army just yet. And turning this one into one of 'his own' would be supremely satisfying...and _fun_!

* * *

''That's impossible!'' Oscar insisted, when Michael told him what had happened with Russ. ''How could he break those restraints? Especially under sedation; he shouldn't have been awake, much less exhibiting that kind of strength!''

''I don't know that he _was _awake,'' Michael explained. ''Someone else could've come in and done it...''

''Someone like...Kingsley?'' Oscar pondered. ''But every Security officer in the building has his photo; I just made sure of it by distributing them myself!''

''He could've slipped in before those photos were handed out.''

''Even so, how would he have broken those restraints?'' Oscar pointed out. ''Cut them with a scalpel or knife?''

''They weren't cut; they were _torn_.''

''Then _how_...?''

''I wish I knew what to tell you, Oscar..but I just don't know.''

* * *

The nurse brought Steve a pain shot, right on schedule...along with a cup of coffee and a sandwich. Steve gratefully drained the coffee but ignored the food, doubting he could get anything past the lump in his stomach. It had been an indescribable gift when Jaime's memories of their life together (and, of course, their _love_) had returned! Steve had spent three of the longest years of his life trying to convince himself that being her friend was enough...and for a time it was. He'd been overjoyed that she was alive at all, even if she didn't remember him...but his heart had never stopped yearning for what they'd had. Now that she had finally returned to his arms, would fate _really_ be cruel enough to tear her away..._forever?_

In her netherworld, caught between this life and the next, Jaime was having a new vision/dream. She could see her parents with their arms open and extended toward her. They'd been fuzzy at first but as she took a few tentative steps toward them, their images grew clearer and she longed to once again feel their embrace...but she seemed to be frozen in place.

''_You need to __**choose**__, Darling_,'' her mother told her. ''_It's your time to be with us now...but only if that's what you truly want. Steve really does love you - and you __**can**__ return to him...or you can stay here with us. But either way, it's time for you to choose_...''

As Jaime stood, still frozen in place, Puzzles ran up to stand beside her parents, barking his own special welcome. Her parents' arms were beckoning to her...and suddenly she could move again. Without looking backward, Jaime took another step closer to the embrace she'd been missing for over a decade...

Back in the hospital room, the monitors began to wail out a warning - and Michael and the nurses rushed into the room. ''_**She's coding**__!_'' Michael told them...


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

''Come on, Jaime...don't do this!'' Michael insisted, pumping her chest while the paddles were being set up, so not a moment would be wasted. Wheeled out of the way (but still able to hold her hand), Steve began to pray like he'd never prayed in his life.

''She's in V-fib!'' Michael said urgently, staring up at the monitors as electrodes were attached to Jaime's chest. ''Hurry up with those paddles!''

''Ready, Doctor Marchetti.''

''Lack of pulse verified,'' Michael announced. ''Set voltage to 250. Steve, you'll have to let go! Ready? Clear!''

Steve held his breath as Jaime's body jerked with the force of the defibrillator. ''Damn it!'' Michael cursed, as instead of returning to a steady rhythm, the line on the monitor was now straight. ''Flat-line! Increase voltage to 300! Ready...Clear!''

_Jaime took another few steps toward her parents' waiting arms; she'd made her decision. Suddenly, she heard Steve's voice: ''__**I love you, Jaime; please don't leave me! I need you...**__''_

Jaime paused, so close to her parents now that she could've reached out and finally touched them. ''It's still your choice, Darling,'' her mother said gently. ''If you stay here, you _**will**__ see him again...someday..._''

''No response!'' Michael called out. ''Increase to 350. Ready...clear!''

_Jaime looked longingly at her parents...then turned back to look at Steve. His image was fading quickly, but she could still just barely make him out, sitting beside the bed where her body was lying, with his head lowered...leaning as close as he was allowed to her now-lifeless body._

''_**Please, Sweetheart...come back...**__'' he was pleading. Even his voice seemed so very far away. Her parents were __**right there**__...and she wanted them terribly..._

''Jaime, we can't tell you what to do now,'' her father explained. (He seemed to be reading her thoughts.) ''If you go back to your body, there will be pain. A lot of pain. But there will also be _**Steve**__.''_

''Jaime...'' Steve's voice called to her from what seemed like the other end of a very long tunnel...very, very faint now but still enough to reach her mind...and touch her heart.

''Choose now, Darling,'' her mother told her. ''_**You have to choose now**__...''_

After the third jolt, the line on the monitor remained flat - and every heart in the room broke. They had lost her. Then suddenly...inexplicably...the line jumped...then jumped again. Michael breathed a deep sigh of relief as the line returned to the low side of normal. ''She's back,'' he announced happily. ''We got her back!''

Ignoring his ribs to do so, Steve leaned in around the machine to give Jaime a tender kiss. She was still limp and unresponsive...but she was _back_!

* * *

Oscar, who had been with Michael when the alarm monitors had gone off, had waited anxiously in the hallway, hearing every word and every sound. He'd paced back and forth, clenching and unclenching his fists as he wished there was something - anything - he could do. For someone who was used to having more power than all but a handful of other men in the entire country, powerlessness was an unfamiliar and pain-filled feeling. When he heard Michael's jubilant announcement, he finally sat down in a chair to wait as most of the medical team began filing out of Jaime's room. Half an hour later, Michael finally came out too - and Oscar rose to shake his hand.

''_Thank you _isn't nearly adequate, Michael...but...thank you,'' he said simply. Michael nodded and smiled his acknowledgment. ''Are you going to tell Rudy?'' Oscar asked.

''I'm going to have to. He's sure to hear about it, one way or another - so it would be best if it came from me; as gently as possible, of course.''

Oscar didn't envy him that conversation. While Michael headed down to Rudy's room, Oscar realized that with everything that had taken place in the course of one very eventful day, he had not yet eaten - so he made his way down to the cafeteria to see if there was anything there that was actually edible. The ham sandwich looked harmless enough...and Oscar headed up to Rudy's office for a little 'down time'...and to eat.

* * *

''I heard the code,'' Rudy said before Michael could get a single word out. ''Is Jaime...?''

''She's alive; it was way too close, but she made it. She's stable.''

''If it weren't for this damned sedative they've got me on, I'd have been right there -''

''And in this case,'' Michael told his mentor, ''I'm glad you weren't. You're in no condition...and I think you know that.''

''Still, that's _Jaime _we're talking about. How's Steve handling all of this?'' Rudy wondered.

''How about we talk about this in the morning, after you've had a good night's rest?''

''I'll rest a lot better once you fill me in,'' Rudy insisted.

''Steve hasn't left Jaime's side since we brought her up from surgery.''

''But he's just had surgery himself!''

''Would _you_ have been able to tear him away?'' Michael asked. ''But he's doing better, physically, than we'd expected at this point. And emotionally...he just got a huge boost. _Now _will you please try and get some more sleep?''

''Yes, Doctor,'' Rudy said, smiling.

* * *

Outside National Medical, his appearance sufficiently altered from any photo that might have been given to Security (thanks to the procedures he'd bought and received in Mexico), Nemesis was smiling too. He'd been circling the building with his original prototype machine (bulky but still portable), watching through his binoculars and waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. That time had now presented itself; his target was still inside but he'd caught him alone. Taking careful aim at the window, Nemesis broke into an evil sneer...and fired up the device.


	21. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

It would probably be several hours (or more) before his newly-chosen target showed the first symptoms...and days (at least) before he'd be sufficiently prepped (blanked out) for the new device to work its magic. Satisfied in knowing he'd accomplished what he'd come there to do, Nemesis left the grounds and headed back to his newly-rented house. His next project, he decided, would be to somehow enable the miniaturized device to also do the work of the prototype - the initial blanking out of the subjects' minds...but he had plenty of time for that. For now, the cat in him would enjoy toying with his new mouse...and his older one.

* * *

''Steve, it's the middle of the night. You really need to be back in your room, resting - and preferably _asleep_'' Michael told him. ''She's still in a coma; it's unlikely she'll wake up in the next few hours.''

''Unlikely? Sorry, Doc...not leaving her. Please...'' Steve added. This time, no one was going to make him let go of Jaime's hand without a fight. (Michael could see that too.) ''I'll doze here in my chair if I get tired.''

''That's hardly restful or restorative...but I have an idea. I'll be right back.'' Michael returned within minutes with his highly unorthodox solution. He wheeled a well-padded gurney right up beside Jaime's bed and patted the cushion. ''Lie down on this - non-negotiable, if you want to stay in here. And only for tonight.''

Michael lowered the gurney far enough that Steve could get on with a minimum of pain...then raised it to the exact level of Jaime's bed so Steve could get his wish to continue holding her hand. He removed a syringe from his pocket. ''You _are_ going to get some sleep, though. It's light enough that you'll still feel it if she stirs and starts to wake up.'' He'd thought of everything to avoid an argument from this very stubborn (in the name of love) patient. But he also suspected that even if he'd chosen a much stronger sedative, the slightest sound or movement from Jaime would still rouse Steve instantly. Then the young (and extremely exhausted) doctor headed off to check on Russ and Rudy before retiring to his office to try for a couple of hours of sleep himself. He knew his night team would summon him immediately if the remote monitors showed even the slightest change in Jaime's condition.

* * *

A few hours later (the sun was not fully up yet), something _did _ penetrate Steve's lightly-sedated slumber. It was so slight as to be nearly imperceptible...but Steve was instantly wide awake. _Jaime's fingers had twitched! _Had he imagined it? There was no movement immediately following; she seemed as still as silent and she'd been ever since he'd first carried her out of FunWorld. His ribs completely forgotten (or at least, ignored) for the time being, he swung himself off of the gurney, perched on the edge of Jaime's bed and leaned in close to her face. He gently caressed her cheek and then grasped her hand again.

''Jaime...?'' he whispered hopefully. ''Sweetheart...?'' There it was again - the ever so slight squeeze from the tips of her fingers! ''You...can hear me!'' he concluded, rewarded by a slightly stronger squeeze. ''That means you're almost back to me,'' he told her, ''and back to _**us**__! _Can you open your eyes for me? Listen to my voice, follow it...and open your eyes.'' Steve waited breathlessly for several minutes as Jaime's eyelids twitched, fluttered...and finally opened. Both Jaime and Steve's eyes filled with tears as they gazed at each other...as neither one had been sure they'd ever be reunited again.

Michael had been summoned by his staff who'd noticed changes on the remote monitors (even before her fingers had first twitched) and he stood in the doorway for a few moments, transfixed by the loving tableau, before entering to check his patient closely. ''Hi there,'' he said from the doorway first, to alert them both to his presence. ''And I can't tell you how happy I am to see you again,'' he told Jaime. His practiced eyes had already scanned her monitors. Her vitals were still on the low end of normal but much stronger and steadier now. (But how alert was she?) ''Do you know where you are?'' he asked her.

Jaime's gaze still had not parted from Steve's. ''I'm right where I need to be,'' she said softly.

_Oriented to time and place,_ Michael noted to himself. _Already. Love really __**can**__ work miracles!_'' Maybe we should just issue you your 'MD' license right now,'' he told Steve. ''Because your therapy is working wonders. I'll leave you to it. And Jaime? Welcome back!''

Since staff would soon be making the rounds with breakfast trays (and Michael knew his mentor's habit of rising at dawn, if not earlier), he headed down to give Rudy the good news. He met Oscar on the way down the hallway. ''Do you ever sleep?'' Michael asked.

''Do you?'' Oscar shot back with an ironic smile.

''Touche. Jaime's awake...and she's doing surprisingly well.''

Now Oscar broke into a full-fledged grin. ''Already? That's wonderful news - the best!''

''Steve's with her. I'm on my way to brighten Rudy's morning with the news, if you'd like to come along,'' Michael invited.

They found Rudy sitting up in bed, his breakfast tray already delivered...and already shoved off to the side. His eyes blazed with fury. ''I just found out that Jaime coded last night!'' the older doctor fumed. ''_Why the hell didn't you let me know?_''


	22. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

''I _did _tell you, Rudy,'' Michael said gently. ''I came in as soon as Jaime was out of immediate danger. You were still groggy from sedation; that's probably why you don't remember.''

''My God...this is exactly how it started with Russ...'' Rudy realized.

''I wouldn't worry about that,'' Michael told him. (Besides, he was worried enough for both of them...and it wouldn't do Rudy's condition any good to be under more stress.) ''This is a totally different situation. Mark Conrad is convinced Russ is suffering from PTSD -''

''Michael...you don't believe that any more than I do.'' Rudy took a deep, steadying breath. ''Oscar, you need to hear this too. If this happens to me again - even one more time - I want you to sedate me and _keep _me that way. And have Security watching, right by my bed. Hopefully this will help us figure out what Kingsley's up to.''

''I understand, Rudy,'' Michael said very quietly (fearing deeply for his dear friend). He placed what he hoped was a reassuring hand on Rudy's shoulder and prayed that such measures would not be necessary.

* * *

Nemesis' face was a grinning death's head as he tuned his device to '01' and began to speak. ''_Wake up!_'' he commanded. ''Get dressed and then I want you to leave the hospital by any means necessary. Head out toward the woods in the back and wait for me there.''

In his hospital bed, in spite of the heavy drugs he'd been given, Russ's eyes snapped open...and once again he tore through his restraints and (not even feeling the pain that screamed from his injured foot), he began getting dressed.

* * *

''I thought...I was dead...'' Jaime said in a weak voice.

''For a few minutes, you were,'' Steve confirmed.

''Steve...''

''You should rest now, Sweetheart. I'll be right here when you wake up; I promise.''

''Steve...I saw my parents! They were..._right there_! I could...almost touch them. And...and I wanted to...so badly. But I came back..._to __**you**__._''

''I'm so glad you did. I love you, Jaime.'' Steve wasn't sure if a lack of oxygen had made her hallucinate...or if she really did see her parents and choose _life_ instead. But his heart sang with joy that she was still here and that somehow (it was a miracle, really) they'd been granted another chance.

* * *

Russ limped to the window, his foot not slowing slowing him down because he didn't feel the pain. Three stories up...too high to jump. He'd have to go out the door - and get past the two guards who were standing there. _...by any means necessary..._ They wouldn't be expecting him to be awake, much less out of bed, so the element of surprise was on his side. Moving like a very fast automaton (without even having to think about it), Russ headed out the door...and punched one Security man in the stomach. The second one turned to grab him...and Russ swung his fist up and landed a blow to his temple. With both guards (temporarily) down, he began to run. Even his foot (and heavy sedation) failed to slow down his determination to follow orders he didn't remember but that were deeply ingrained in his mind. He had just reached the door to the cafeteria when alarms began to sound throughout the building. Deciding not to risk the short run down the hallway to the back exit, he ran through the cafeteria and in one easy motion picked up one of the plastic chairs and bashed the window open - then, his injured foot falling heavily with each step but not slowing him down, he ran for the woods (as instructed)...and _freedom_.

''Hello, Russ,'' came a voice from deep within the trees. Nemesis/Kingsley stepped out into Russ's view (still hidden from the hospital by the trees). He couldn't direct him with a normal verbal command, so he turned the device to '01' again, handed his subject a gun...and spoke into the tiny speaker. ''Here's what I need you to do...''

* * *

''That's Security!'' Oscar exclaimed upon hearing the alarm. He keyed up his datacom. ''This is Oscar Goldman; what's going on?''

''Mark Russell has injured two guards...and left the hospital,'' came the transmitted answer.

''How the _hell _did he get out of that bed?'' Michael wondered.

''Re-issue the APB,'' Oscar instructed. ''I need him found immediately...or sooner!''

''He won't get far on that foot,'' Michael said. ''But whatever hold Kingsley and Cobra have on him, it must be very strong...''

Oscar nodded before running for the back exit, intending to look for Russ himself. He guessed his misguided young assistant wouldn't have taken the front exit – and the woods seemed an ideal hiding place, if he was frightened and confused. Oscar had no sooner reached the protection of the trees when Russ grabbed him by the arm...with a gun trained directly toward Oscar's head. ''You're coming with me,'' he said, pulling Oscar deeper into the forest.

* * *

Rudy blinked hard and his eyes went blank. ''What's going on?'' he asked Michael.

He'd been right there to hear Oscar's conversation on the datacom. 'It' had happened again...so soon! Reluctantly (but resolutely), Michael had no choice but to carry out Rudy's instructions.

* * *

''Give me your datacom,'' Russ ordered. ''And if you press that red button, I'll shoot you in the head.''


	23. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

''You don't need the gun, Russ,'' Oscar said in a calm, even voice. ''Put it away and let's talk.''

''You're funny,'' Russ laughed. ''Too bad you're about to go missing.''

''You aren't yourself right now,'' Oscar told him, looking straight into Russ's eyes, trying hard to 'reach' him but receiving only a blank stare in return. ''Let me help you. We'll go back to the hospital and -''

''Let's go, Oscar,'' Russ interrupted. He grabbed his boss's arm and (still pointing the gun at his head) pulled him further into the woods and then out on the side that opened onto a dirt road...where the dark green van was waiting. Russ threw open the rear doors and roughly shoved Oscar inside...where someone was ready to tie him up. In spite of the dramatic change in his appearance, Oscar's experienced eye recognized the man immediately.

''Kingsley,'' Oscar muttered. ''I _knew _you were behind this.''

''Brilliant deduction, Goldman,'' Nemesis sneered. ''Too bad brilliance won't help you out of this one!'' He turned on his device again, instructing Russ. ''Now return to the hospital and continue with the plan we discussed.''

* * *

''Steve...'' Jaime pleaded, her voice growing weaker. ''Please...don't go.''

''They might need my help.''

''I...need you! And...I need you..._alive_...please. If there's anything you can do...they know where you are...''

Steve nodded and squeezed Jaime's hand as - completely exhausted - she drifted off to sleep. He had to admit she had a point.

* * *

The Security alarm had started blaring at almost the exact moment that Michael injected Rudy's IV with the heavy medication his mentor had requested. Ready or not, Michael was now the only doctor in charge of the Classified Level 6 wing of the hospital. In fact, with Rudy temporarily out of commission, he'd be forced to oversee the entire hospital. Still, he waited until Rudy was fully out (calming him the best he could along the way) before stepping out into the hallway to find out what had happened. The first thing he noticed was that (on the other end of the hallway) the guards were missing from outside of Russ's room. He ran down the hall...and his worst suspicions proved correct; Russ's bed was empty.

Michael picked up the bedside phone and had Oscar paged...but there was no answer. He paged Security, ordering two guards for Rudy and when they (quickly) appeared, he took charge...because he had no choice. ''Stay with him,'' Michael instructed. ''Do _not _leave his bedside! And I need one of your datacoms.'' He keyed up the device. ''Oscar, where are you?'' he transmitted. ''We need you back here at National!''

There was no reply.

* * *

''What are you up to, Kingsley?'' Oscar asked. ''Are you planning to use that _thing _on me next?'' (He wondered if OSI Resistance Training would be of any help...but he guessed not, since it had clearly not aided Russ.)

''That would be too easy on you, Goldman. I'd rather let you witness what I'm going to accomplish while your head is completely clear...for now, anyway. Then you'll see what _real _genius can accomplish!''

''Why? What are you hoping to gain?''

''You know what?'' Kingsley sneered. ''I'm tired of listening to you.'' He shoved a gag into Oscar's mouth, moved up into the driver's seat and started the van.

* * *

''Alright,'' Michael told one of the guards, ''_you _fill me in.''

''Michael?'' a voice called from the hallway (before the guard had a chance to explain). _**Russ**_! He appeared out of breath and was staggering heavily on his bad foot. ''I looked everywhere, but I couldn't find him!''

''Couldn't find _who?_'' one of the guards demanded, as they moved to take him into custody.

''_Oscar!_Look, I'm really sorry for taking off - especially in the way I had to do it,'' Russ told them (suddenly appearing quite lucid and sensible). ''Oscar radioed me that he needed help...''

''And you just _had _to punch two more of our men to accomplish that?'' the guard said, understandably skeptical.

''I'm sorry. Truly, I am. But I knew they'd try and stop me and there just wasn't any time to waste arguing with them. Oscar said he was out back by the lake...that Grant Kingsley had him...and that I was the only one Kingsley was willing to negotiate with.''

''Even if that _was _true, you couldn't possibly have thought it was a good idea -''

''I _wasn't_ thinking. He said Kingsley was giving me just five minutes to get out there...or he would _shoot _Oscar! And that the same would happen if Security tried to follow me. I had no choice...but I couldn't find them,'' he finished (with the appropriate touch of helplessness in his voice).

They didn't know whether to believe him or not. ''Is there a lie detector in the building, Doctor Marchetti?'' the first guard asked.

''This is an OSI-sponsored facility; of course there is,'' Michael told him.

''Let's get him back to his room and hook him up. And if Colonel Austin is able, send for him. He's skilled in interrogation.''

* * *

Steve eyed Russ with the deepest of suspicion. He seemed perfectly normal now...but _was he?_ Security had briefed him on the story Russ had told - and Steve would have to place his trust in the machine's readings...and his own instincts. As was standard procedure, he asked some easy questions first (to establish a baseline): Russ's full name, his birth date and where he was born. ''Now I want you to _lie,_'' he said. ''What was your mother's maiden name?''

''Nora Smith,'' Russ answered calmly.

As it should have (when a subject is lying), the needle jumped on the paper.

''Alright, Russ. Where is Oscar?''

''I don't know.''

The needle stayed steady. ''Did you cause his disappearance?'' Steve questioned.

''Of course not!''

''Do you know who did?''

''No; but he said he was with Grant Kingsley. I have no reason to doubt him.''

''Are you working with Kingsley or helping him in any way?''

''That's ludicrous!'' Russ insisted.

''Just answer the question, please. Are you working with Kingsley...or helping him in any way?''

''No.''

Steve carefully and thoroughly led Russ through each detail of what he claimed had happened - and the needle didn't jump or vary its steady, even course on the paper in any way. Steve didn't know it, but with Russ so completely under the influence of Kingsley's device, his mind no longer reacted to what a normal person would consider a 'lie'. (Except, of course, for a consciously deliberate lie such as the one Steve had requested.) For Russ, there was no such thing as a lie anymore, when it came to his singular focus of accomplishing his assigned tasks. For Steve, the machine was indicating that Oscar's right-hand man was telling the truth.


	24. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Steve's gut instinct was telling him exactly the opposite of the lie detector's results but he tried to push back his personal feelings. With Oscar gone (hopefully only temporarily), the only person left with _all _of the OSI's most inner workings in his head...was Russ. (Steve himself ranked a distant third, as he knew there were many things Oscar couldn't share with him.) Steve would alert Jack Hansen right away - and he'd no doubt be flying back across the country to Los Angeles immediately - but in the meantime...

''Test shows he's on the level,'' Steve reported to the head of Security.

''And your feeling, Colonel?''

''I'm not sure,'' Steve admitted. ''But best case scenario, he can be a great help right now...and worst case scenario, he knows where Oscar is - if we can get him to tell us. Give him his datacom back - but _not _his weapon - and make sure you keep an eye on him. Let's see where he goes with this.''

''Are you sure about this, Steve?'' Michael asked.

''No; but either way, right now he's our only link to Oscar.''

* * *

Russ's voice on the datacom sounded clear and strong. ''All available units, all agencies, this is Mark Russell, OSI. I'm issuing an All Points Bulletin-Endangered Person for Oscar Goldman. Believed to have been abducted by Grant Kingsley...APB already issued. I need regular check-ins and advise Colonel Steve Austin and myself immediately if you find anything, no matter how slight. Over.''

''Sounds like our man is performing well...exactly as instructed,'' Kingsley taunted at Oscar.

* * *

Jaime slept restlessly, seeming to sense that Steve was no longer by her side. When she woke with a start, the face looking down at her wasn't Steve's; it was Michael's. He'd discovered her tossing in her bed and had been checking her monitors. ''Where's Steve?'' she asked.

''I'm sure he'll be back soon,'' Michael said soothingly. It would be best if Jaime not know about what was going on.

Except...Jaime would not be soothed. ''Michael...where is he?'' she demanded with as much force as her severely weakened condition allowed.

''He got called away -''

''Oh no!''

''But only for a consult, Jaime. He's _not_ going back into the field; I promise you that. And he'll be back as soon as he can.''

* * *

With Russ still under a cloud of semi-suspicion, Steve was ensconced now in Rudy's office, officially in charge of the majority of Security's teams himself (and now, Search and Rescue and teams from NSB-Los Angeles as well)...at least until Jack Hansen arrived. Hopefully, Oscar could still be found before then. While he waited for updates, Steve made a fresh pot of coffee, stared out the window and had begun to pace restlessly when Michael knocked on the door.

''Humor your doctor and at least sit down,'' Michael requested.

''I ever tell you how much I hate sitting at a desk, Doc?'' Steve said, resuming his vigil at the window instead.

''Would you prefer to be sitting at that desk - or lying back down, in your _post-surgical _hospital bed?''

''Point taken,'' Steve acknowledged, sinking into the chair.

''And just how did you get down here? Where's your wheelchair?''

''How's Jaime?'' Steve asked, dodging the question entirely...since Michael obviously knew the answer anyhow.

''She's okay; still stable. She woke up for a few minutes...and asked where you were. I had to tell her you'd been called on a consult -''

''She has a way of pulling things out of a man,'' Steve chuckled.

''Exactly. I assured her that you would _**not **_be attempting any field work...and she was so tired that she accepted that without asking for more details and went right back to sleep.''

''Good.''

''Do _not _make a liar out of me!'' Michael told him. ''Don't even consider it.''

''I know,'' Steve sighed. He realized he could be of the most help to Oscar doing exactly what he was doing right now...and if he attempted to aid in the actual search, he'd most likely end up needing rescue himself.

* * *

Oscar didn't try to struggle against the ropes that held him. He knew they were too tight. Although he'd been blindfolded before being taken from the van, it had been a short ride. He estimated they were less than 10 miles from National Medical...well within striking distance of whatever Kingsley might be planning. And even though the blindfold remained in place, from the stairs they'd gone down (and the smell of wet concrete) he knew he was in a basement. Possibly in a storage locker, from the sound of the lock he'd heard Kingsley working. Oscar's every sense was on high alert, still gathering information like the career Intelligence man that was...but there was nothing he could do about it.


	25. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Steve placed a phone call to NSB-Los Angeles, identified himself and issued his next directive. ''I need you to pay a visit to all of Kingsley's associates in The Hole,'' he instructed (which was where they were all still being kept as long as Kingsley himself remained free). ''See if any of their tongues can be loosened. Kingsley's whereabouts, his habits...anything they can - or will - tell us. I don't care what methods you use to _persuade_ them; just don't kill anyone. And have me paged at National Medical when you get something. Do _not _transmit this information via datacom.''

''Heard and understood, Colonel.''

''I anticipate arrival of Jack Hansen at this facility in...'' Steve checked Rudy's clock, ''four more hours.''

''Affirmative.''

Steve expected a vicious argument would commence in approximate four hours and ten minutes. Federal law (and protocol) dictated that the disappearance of a top OSI official (in this case, _the_ top official) was automatically an NSB matter. Steve had complied with this - and agreed with it but only to a point - a _big _point! Oscar had issued a videotaped directive (not long after he'd assumed his current position) that if he were ever to be captured, due to the vicious effectiveness of modern interrogation techniques, he was to be located...and killed at once.

Steve would fight tooth and nail to _not_ allow this to happen!

* * *

Confident that Steve had _his_ hospital's security well in hand, Michael began rounds to check on his other three most important patients. He had never been one to crave power and didn't relish the thought that (with Rudy deeply unconscious for the foreseeable future) there had been a shift in the power to run this hospital...directly onto Michael's shoulders. He accepted this resolutely but his strength was in patient care and he was grateful to have Steve at the helm down in Rudy's office.

Rudy was still sleeping quietly, the restraints that Michael had ordered so reluctantly (and only because Rudy demanded them) were still in place and two guards stood watch right by the bed, as per instructions. His pulse was weak and thready and his pressure a little too high but the heart monitor showed no signs of further arrhythmia.

* * *

Russ was sitting up in bed (still in his street clothes), datacom in hand...and with a trio of guards standing watch. ''How do you feel?'' Michael asked. ''Any dizziness?''

''None.''

''Let's take a look at that foot.'' Michael unwrapped the bandage. As he'd expected, the foot was now angrily inflamed from Russ's foray out of the hospital. ''You need to stay off of it,'' he ordered. ''I'll have a nurse come in to re-bandage it - and bring you something for pain.''

''Negative on the pain shot,'' Russ told him. ''I need my wits about me, if we're going to find Oscar.''

* * *

The read-outs on Jaime's monitors were encouraging. She was sleeping lightly, with no present danger of slipping back into her coma. Michael would happily remove her from the Critical list and mark her condition as Serious instead. With such promising results showing on the monitors, he decided not to check her pulse and risk waking her from much-needed rest...but the slight movement in her room was enough.

''Steve...?'' she murmured (before even opening her eyes).

''It's Michael,'' he told her apologetically. At one time, it would've pained him deeply to hear her wake up calling for someone else. But Michael knew now and accepted (especially after the last few days) that her heart belonged to someone else. The love she and Steve shared had truly saved Jaime's life, twice within the space of 48 hours; they _needed _each other...and for Jaime, Steve was the best possible medicine.

''Where's Steve?'' she asked, her eyes fully open now.

''He's down in Rudy's office, assisting in some investigative work...'' (Michael was still trying to tell her as little as possible.)

''Michael, I heard the Security alarms too. Don't placate me, please! What's going on here? Because I know...something's _wrong_!''

''For a little while, they couldn't find Russ...but he's back now,'' Michael told her (choosing his words very carefully).

''But everything's _not _alright,'' Jaime persisted, ''or Steve would be back here!''

_Damn,_ Michael thought to himself, _she's awfully aware...coming this soon after such a close brush with death!_ It left him unsure of just how much he _should_tell her.

''_Please_, Michael! What's happening? Is it...Kingsley?''

She simply wouldn't be satisfied until she heard it all. Michael touched a hand to her shoulder to steady her for the news. ''Yes,'' he said simply.

''And he's..._here?_In the hospital?''

''No; he isn't here. You're safe...and so is Steve.''

''Damn it, Michael - _tell me!_''

''We believe he may have Oscar...''

''Oh no...God, _**NO**__..._''

''They'll find him,'' Michael assured her.

Her body may have been severely weakened...but Jaime's mind was _sharp_. She knew that the NSB would've already been called in. While she no longer had memory of Oscar's directive (in the event he was captured by the enemy), she knew enough about the NSB and its tactics that she just didn't trust them. _Please Steve,_ she prayed silently, _find him before the NSB does!_

* * *

''What've you got for me?'' Steve inquired when the first transmitted report came in.

''Not good, Colonel. We've located Goldman's tie down by the lake and a gun in the bushes nearby...recently fired. So far, no bullet casings located.''

''Keep me posted,'' Steve ordered.

''Will do, Colonel.''

This was _not _good news! Steve knew if the gun had been fired so close to the lake there was a terrible possibility to consider: that Oscar had been summarily executed...and his body dumped into the water...


	26. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

When all teams had reported in (with nothing to report) and knowing he'd have even more on his plate in a few hours, Steve headed back to Jaime's room. He'd hoped to find her getting some (restorative) rest but she was wide awake...and began peppering him with questions before he'd even sat down.

''How's Oscar? Did they find him yet?''

_Damn...Michael told her..._Steve thought. Still, he didn't blame the young doctor. Even though she'd never been trained in interrogation techniques, Jaime simply had a _way_- with her eyes, her words and the timbre of her voice - of getting any information she determined she needed. ''Not yet, Sweetheart,'' he answered, sinking wearily into the bedside chair. ''But we will.''

''Any leads at all?''

''No,'' Steve told her. She didn't need to hear about the gun by the lake; it wouldn't do her any good - and would only upset her. But he also knew she was waiting to hear more...and one way or another, she'd get it from him. ''I called in Jack Hansen; I had to,'' he added.

''I know you did. It's sort of the law...right?''

''Yes.'' (Did she remember - or know about - Oscar's personal directive? From appearances, she did not...and Steve wasn't about to tell her.)

''What happens now?'' Jaime asked.

''What happens now...is that you _rest_.''

''_Steve...!_''

There _was_ one way she might be able to help, Steve realized, and hopefully it wouldn't be too taxing. ''Hang on a few minutes,'' he told her. He put in a page for Mark Conrad and after a quick consult about what Steve planned to do, the two men returned together to Jaime's hospital room. Jaime gave the doctor a quick, nervous smile and then immediately shifted her attention to Steve, eager to get on with it...whatever 'it' was.

''Jaime...'' Steve began, ''when Kingsley had you, before I got there, did he say anything to you - anything at all - that might give us a clue of what his ultimate plans are?''

Jaime closed her eyes, searching through her memories of the most horrific hours of her life. Both men were watching her closely. ''Aside from killing us...no,'' she concluded.

''And did he take you anywhere, other than to the park?''

''I...don't know,'' Jaime answered slowly. ''They had...chloroform, I think...and they used it three times. No...four. There are a couple of other things I remember though...''

''Do you feel up to telling us?'' Mark probed softly. ''Or maybe you'd like to rest awhile first.''

Jaime shook her head adamantly. ''This is the only way...I can help. And I _want _to help!'' Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she called forth the memories she wanted so desperately to forget - and both men noticed she'd begun to tremble slightly. Mark checked her pulse and read the monitors before nodding to Steve that it was still safe to continue.

''What do you remember, Sweetheart?'' Steve inquired, reaching for her hand.

''He..._Kingsley_...he said he wanted us...you and me, Steve...to _suffer_. It seemed to make him..._happy!_His eyes, Steve...they were crazy eyes!''

''I know,'' Steve affirmed. ''Jaime, did you overhear anything he might've said to his men, about where they might've been planning to hole up...after the park?''

''No...but Steve? He...he took too much joy in hurting me...in hurting _us_. He's not done with us yet...''

Steve could only hope she was wrong about that.

* * *

Jack Hansen blew into Michael's office like a house was on fire - and _he _was the only one who was capable of putting out the flame. ''Austin has no business running an investigation in the shape he's in,'' Hansen announced. ''I'll be taking over, effective immediately!''

''Wait just a minute,'' Michael said firmly. ''This is currently _my_ hospital, Steve is _my_ patient...and I won't have you coming in here issuing orders to either one of us!'' (Of course, Michael knew Hansen had the authority to do exactly that...but Michael's determination to see Oscar rescued - and not killed by his captor _or_ the NSB - was as strong as Steve's.) ''While you're in _my facility_, I have some say in this! And I'm keeping a close eye on both Steve _and _on Mark Russell. They're fully capable of the duties they're undertaking and -''

''_Mark Russell?!_ Are you completely _insane_...**Doctor**?''

''He passed a polygraph and - like it or not - he may be our best source for finding Oscar alive. Now, if you'd like to remove your foot from your mouth and your head from...the other end, I'll fill you in and then you can talk to Steve and question Russ to your heart's content.''

''I want Russell given pentothal immediately,'' Hansen demanded.

''Let's get one thing clear here; you will _not _be giving me orders regarding my patients!''

''Fine!'' Hansen seethed through clenched teeth. ''Doctor Marchetti...I would like you to _please_ administer a standard dosage of sodium pentothal to _your_ patient, Mark Russell - and do it _now_.''

* * *

''Maybe Hansen has the right idea, when it comes to Russ,'' Steve admitted. Jaime had mercifully fallen back to sleep (probably from sheer exhaustion) before Michael had appeared in the doorway to summon Steve. ''Because my gut's still telling me that he knows more than he's saying.''

''Well, let's do it, then,'' Michael said. ''We'll bring Mark Conrad in there with us.'' He took a closer look at Steve. ''When was the last time you had any meds yourself?''

''Had the antibiotic an hour ago, just like clockwork,'' Steve replied.

''What about pain meds? You've got to be hurting like hell by now...''

''Who do you want conducting this interrogation? Me...or Jack Hansen?''

Steve had an excellent point.

* * *

''Fine,'' Russ conceded, ''anything that you think will help us find Oscar.'' He extended his arm for the IV needle and Michael pushed the drug through. Everyone in the room - Steve, Michael, the Security guards, Hansen, Mark Conrad and Russ himself - waited for the medication's effects to begin. Within less than a minute, Russ grew visibly groggy and leaned back against his pillows.

''Okay Russ,'' Steve began (without giving Hansen a chance to step in first), ''_Where is Oscar Goldman?_''


	27. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

''I don't know...where Oscar is,'' Russ slurred. (This was actually the truth; he didn't know...but Kingsley's hold on Russ's mind was going to prove stronger than even sodium pentothal. While Kingsley couldn't hear what was going on, Russ had been carefully 'programmed' for any eventuality.

''Tell me about the gun by the lake,'' Steve demanded.

''What about it?''

''Did you put it there?''

''No,'' Russ replied. (This was still the truth.)

''Did you fire it - or _any gun _- today?''

''No.'' (And the truth was...he hadn't. Kingsley had fired the gun and planted it before Oscar had even been taken, just to throw the search teams off course...and it had worked.)

''Do you know who left the gun by the lake?'' Steve questioned.

''Whose prints were on it?'' Mark asked (in a loopy voice).

''You don't get to ask questions, Russell,'' Hansen put in. ''You get to _answer _them.'' He nodded to Steve to continue.

''Do you know who left the gun by the lake?'' Steve asked again. There had been no fingerprints found on the gun (as it had been wiped 'clean'), but he didn't intend to let Russ know that.

''No.''

''Who fired it - and who were they shooting at?''

''I don't know...and I have no idea,'' Russ answered.

''How did you lure Oscar out of the hospital?'' Steve demanded (shifting tactics).

''I didn't lure him anywhere...''

''Why did you _really _punch those guards?''

Russ gave a groggy shrug. ''To get out of my room.''

''Why did you need to leave your room badly enough to injure two men?''

''Oscar needed my help.''

''Where is Oscar now?'' Hansen cut in.

''I don't know.''

''Do you know who caused his disappearance?''

''No.''

''Is he alive?'' Hansen queried.

''I don't know...but I hope so,'' Russ told him. He was slipping effortlessly between truths and lies now, because (for him) there was no longer such a thing as a 'lie'; there was only what he had been instructed...and what had been demanded of him. His focus was as singular as that of an automaton - which, in essence, was now exactly what he was.

* * *

Another meeting was hastily called in Michael's office. ''So, what do you think now?'' Michael asked of the room in general - and Steve in particular.

''Actually, I'm wondering what _you _think,'' Steve told him.

''Russ may have been able to beat the polygraph machine by virtue of what remained of the sedation in his bloodstream. Theoretically, that's possible; it's a known loophole for those machines. But I've never known anyone who could lie through a pentothal screening.''

''Neither have I,'' Steve admitted. ''He didn't tell us anything new...but I guess this confirms what he tried to tell us earlier. I'm still not comfortable with returning his weapon though.''

''I'm not either,'' Hansen affirmed. ''But I suppose we can accept his input from here on out - from his hospital bed of course, until Doctor Marchetti releases him.''

''What about...Oscar's directive?'' Steve asked reluctantly. (He _had _to know!)

''As much as it might pain me,'' Hansen responded, ''I have no choice but to order my men to make every effort to carry it out.''

''Can I get you to hold off - for 24 hours? Or even 12?'' Steve pleaded.

''I'm sorry, Colonel...but you know as well as I do that these are Oscar's wishes...a mercy, as soon as we can manage it. And it's highly likely that in carrying them out, we'll be taking Kingsley out too.''

* * *

Steve had accepted Michael's offer of wheelchair transport back to Rudy's office...and finally agreed to a pain shot as well. In truth, he was finding it difficult to keep functioning. While he waited for the shot to work, he chugged yet another mug of coffee and agreeably ate the sandwich a nurse had brought to him; he could use the energy.

He began running through the options in his head. There weren't many. A new report from one of the search teams seemed on the surface to be extremely ominous: 'kneel marks' had been discovered on the bank of the lake, not far from where the gun had been located. To someone with less experience, it would all indicate that an execution had taken place...but Steve's instinct (which was really all he had to go on) told him it was simply too neat. It was a set-up. Kingsley had gotten a bizarre thrill from tormenting Jaime and himself; there was almost no chance he had dispatched Oscar so quickly.

Steve had no doubt that (if Oscar could be found) Hansen's teams could find him as quickly as the OSI's. But as long as Steve was still at the helm, the two agencies remained at loggerheads regarding Oscar's directive...and the OSI simply _had_ to find him first! It would be a race against time...and (for the OSI versus the NSB) a race against each other.

* * *

Jack Hansen was running the same race. After the meeting in Michael's office, he made his way back to Russ's room. "Leave us alone," he instructed the guards by Russ's bed. "And close the door on your way out."


	28. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

''I need to adjust your datacom,'' Hansen told Russ (once they were alone). ''We're changing frequencies.'' Russ handed it over without argument...and Hansen was careful to knock the call button under the bed as he moved across the room to place the datacom on a closet shelf, well out of Russ's reach. He moved swiftly back to the bedside and - without further preamble - grabbed him by the throat.

''It's just you and me now. And you're _going_ to answer! _Where is Oscar Goldman?!_''

''I...don't...know...'' Russ managed to choke out.

''And I don't believe you!'' Still holding the OSI's Second-in-Command by the throat, Hansen slapped him hard with his other hand then slammed him roughly back down onto the bed as though Russ was merely a rag doll. ''Now start talking. Where did your boss take Oscar?''

''Oscar...is my boss,'' Russ insisted (appearing genuinely confused).

Hansen slammed him again. ''I'm talking about _Kingsley_, you idiot! I'm not easily fooled like Austin and Marchetti might be! Where did Kingsley take Oscar?''

''I swear to you - I don't know! And I've never even _met _Grant Kingsley!''

''Try again!'' Hansen demanded, landing a punch for emphasis.

''We're...wasting...time...'' Russ forced out (through a now profusely bleeding lip). ''We'll never...find Oscar...this way...''

''And how - exactly - _will_ we find him? I'll tell you how; by ending your little charade. Great act, but _this_ audience isn't buying it - not one word of it! You turned Oscar over to your new boss - and we both know it! Now _where is he_?''

''I. Don't. Know!''

Hansen leaned in nearly nose to nose with Russ. ''Don't make me _really _hurt you,'' he seethed. ''Because I will, if I have to.''

''Do you want me to...make something up?'' Russ pleaded.

''Try something _different_...like the _**truth**__!_''

''I'm...telling you...the truth...''

_SLAM!_''What is Kingsley planning next?''

''I wouldn't know.''

''Is Oscar still alive?'' Hansen persisted.

''He probably won't be...if we don't get back...to looking for him!''

_**SLAM**__!_ ''Damn it, stop lying to me! Do yourself - and Oscar - a favor and tell me where Kingsley took him! _Now!_''

Suddenly the door flew open, in time for Steve and Michael to witness Hansen going way too far. Russ's head hit the wall with a sickening _thud_...and Hansen dropped him onto the bed, limp and unconscious, his face battered and his mouth bleeding badly. Michael hurried to attend to Russ...while Steve (his wheelchair forgotten again) pulled Hansen away from the bed. He'd instructed Security to notify him immediately if Hansen returned to the Level 6 hallway without an OSI escort - and they'd obeyed his request.

''What the _hell_ have you done?'' Steve demanded. ''Rudy's office. _Now._''

* * *

''Don't even try to tell me you didn't think of doing exactly the same thing!'' Hansen thundered. He'd gone with Steve to Rudy's office but refused to sit down and was pacing angrily instead, like a man-eating tiger that had been stopped in mid-kill. ''I just had the guts to carry it through! And I _don't_ have to be here listening to admonitions from you!''

Steve moved to stand between Hansen and the (closed) office door. ''Actually, Jack...you do. You just knocked out the OSI's Second in Command...and with Oscar gone, guess who that leaves? _Me_! And you're in an _OSI-sponsored _facility! I could have you brought up on charges!''

''You could try,'' Hansen challenged.

''The saddest part - and the part that makes me want to throw you into next week - is that you don't seem to realize what you've done! Whether you believe him or not, Russ was our best link to Oscar. Possibly our _only _link!''

''And do _you_ believe him, Austin? _Really _believe him?''

''That doesn't matter,'' Steve snapped angrily. ''I have enough brains to know that I have to work with what I'm given! Sometimes, Jack, I don't think you have the good sense that God gave a turnip!''

A knock on the door was probably the only thing that spared either man from throwing an ill-advised punch. ''Steve? It's Mark Conrad. Jaime needs you!'' Mark called through the door. Steve opened it instantly - and didn't even argue about getting into the wheelchair.

He did have one more parting shot for Hansen though. ''You can wait here. You can wait in the conference room...or the cafeteria. You can wait in Hell, for all I care...but you are _**not**_ getting in to see Jaime!''

* * *

''What is it, Sweetheart?'' Steve asked anxiously. All Mark could tell him was that she'd awakened from dozing off and was asking for him because she had something to tell him.

''I...remembered something," Jaime began. ''At least...I think I remember it...''

''Take your time,'' Steve urged.

''When he had me in the kiosk...he...he had that _knife_. And he scared me...so much...then...'' Jaime paused, shuddering at the memory. ''Then he told me to..._imagine_...what he might do next. And he left me alone in there...to think about it...''

Steve's heart ached at hearing what Kingsley had put her through - and he felt horrible that she seemed to be reliving it now (rather than just remembering) - but he had to let her keep going...if she was able.

''I was so scared, Steve!'' Jaime continued. ''And I...I couldn't let myself think about...what he might do to me...so I listened instead...''

''You're doing great, Jaime; just take your time,'' Steve assured her (as he assured himself that Mark was carefully eying the monitors - and his patient - and would stop her immediately if things got to be too much for Jaime, either physically...or emotionally.)

''I heard him telling someone...I don't know who...that after he'd..._finished us off_...they needed to find a place for rent that was close to the hospital. I know he didn't...get the first part...um...taken care of...but maybe...'' her voice trailed off.

''Sweetheart,'' Steve told her, leaning in to give her a grateful kiss on her forehead, ''I think you just gave us our first big break!'' He picked up Jaime's bedside phone, not even wanting to wait long enough to get back to Rudy's office to make _this _call.

''This is Colonel Austin,'' he instructed. ''I need a list of every property that's been for rent in the last week within a 30 mile radius of National Medical. And I need it as fast as you can get it to me!''


	29. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Nemesis waited what he felt was more than the appropriate length of time and (almost exactly at nightfall) he again tuned his device to '01'. ''We'll begin our next phase now,'' he commanded. ''Demand to be released from the hospital. They have no cause to keep you there; your foot will heal just as well at your desk as it will in that bed. You have the authority; _use it_! Then meet me in the rear parking lot at OSI-Los Angeles in exactly one hour.''

He leaned back in his chair and took a few sips of his finest brandy. Things were truly about to start happening now. He backed the green van out of the garage, met his cohorts and exchanged vehicles...then headed for the West Coast office of the OSI. Nemesis had felt no need to check on his hostage; Oscar wouldn't be going anywhere.

* * *

Steve poured urgently over the lists he'd requested. He'd had no idea there would be so many pages...so many possibilities. He used highlighter pens in two colors to isolate the rentals within 20 miles...and within 10...and handed the pages to Lynda, asking for three separate lists. As soon as he had them in hand, Steve ran off copies of all three lists and gave them to Security. ''See that my teams get these - and _only __**my**__ teams_,'' he instructed. ''Have them start with the closest list and work their way out through the radius.''

''Will do, Colonel.''

Completely spent, Steve rang for a nurse and received another pain shot - then he stretched out on the pull-out sofabed in Rudy's office (with his datacom and the phone by his side) and dozed fitfully while he waited for word.

* * *

Mark Conrad had remained with Jaime (as he'd promised Steve he would), and just after dinnertime she tossed restlessly, woke with a start...and tried to sit up in bed. ''Easy there,'' he crooned. ''You still need to be lying flat.''

''Did they find him yet?'' Jaime asked.

''No. I'm sorry...not yet. But they've intensified the search. Hopefully it won't be long now. How do you feel? Any bad dreams?''

''I don't...think so. And I just feel...weak. I _hate _feeling weak...''

''I know you do. But you'll be stronger again before you know it; you've already made remarkable progress,'' Mark told her. ''And you gave them the first real break - the first clue they have - to help find Oscar. I know how hard it must've been, remembering that - and putting it out there in words made it more _real_...didn't it?''

''It sure did.''

''Well, you did a great job,'' Mark affirmed.

''I wanted...I still want...to help - and that's the only way I could.''

''Probably the best help of all. And you know what your 'job' is now...don't you?''

Jaime nodded. ''Rest, rest - and then more rest,'' she said (parroting what Michael had told her at least half a dozen times).

* * *

Nemesis checked his watch _again_. Russ was nearly half an hour late; something had clearly gone wrong...but how? The injury to his foot (however aggravated it might have become) shouldn't have stopped him. The only things he could even imagine interrupting his commands might be a concussive blow to the head...or the death of his subject. But it was no matter. He would just have to ramp up his preparations with Subject '02'.

* * *

Jack Hansen was following his own lead. One of his teams had discovered an abandoned green van, with several varied lengths of rope in the back. While they ran the plate, the inside was tested for traces of blood...and chloroform. Both tests proved negative - but the plate came back as registered to one of the men currently being held in the NSB's 'Hole'.

''Keep at him until he talks,'' Hansen ordered. ''Use whatever means necessary, but keep him conscious...and find out where Goldman is being held!'' He had already arranged for the use of two types of bombs: a small, concentrated device that would destroy its target with only minimal damage to surrounding houses (should Oscar be found in a residential area) - and a larger, heavier one that would take out everything in its path, if Oscar was being held somewhere more isolated. Either way, Hansen would make sure that Oscar's orders (to find him...and _kill_ him) would be carried out.

* * *

When Michael made his rounds (again), Rudy remained sleeping quietly. His vital signs were stable with no signs of any further arrhythmia. Behind the hospital, the Search and Rescue teams were deep in the woods and canvasing the banks of the lake. They never saw the lone man in the baseball cap standing just outside the edge of the trees, hidden by the bushes. Watching through strong binoculars, Nemesis was waiting for exactly the right moment. If the prototype's beam hit the security guards (as well as his target) then so be it. A second blast from the prototype would hopefully blank '02' out even faster...and make him ripe for Nemesis to seize control of his mind.


	30. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Reassured that Rudy was fine (and while he waited for Russ to be returned from X-rays), Michael continued his rounds. Jaime was talking quietly with Mark Conrad and although her face was tear-stained, her vital signs were stable and she claimed to be in no physical discomfort. Steve was not with her - and not in his own room - so Michael headed down to Rudy's office (which seemed to have become Steve's now, at least temporarily). While he hated to wake his patient from what was likely the first restorative rest he'd had in far too long, Steve's position on the pull-out sofa bed was too precarious for someone with a newly-repaired compound fracture. The mattress was too thin and he could easily roll off onto the floor.

''Hey,'' Michael began, rousing Steve as gently as possible. ''Let's route your calls up to your room and get you back into your own bed for awhile.''

''But -''

''Doctor's orders,'' Michael insisted. ''And I'm wheeling you up there; I want you _off your feet _until further notice. Capiche?''

''Capiche, Doc,'' Steve acknowledged. Although he would never admit it, he knew he'd overdone it...but there was simply no one else able to head up the search for Oscar...no one who didn't intend to have him killed, anyhow.

* * *

Seizing just the right moment, Nemesis fired up his prototype, took careful aim up and through the window...and pulled the trigger, then quickly made his way back to the car, narrowly escaping Hansen's men - who were re-scouring the grounds for any sign of the head of Cobra. Rudy moaned slightly in his sleep...and the guard on the window side of the bed stepped closer but the doctor didn't open his eyes.

* * *

Jaime was too restless to go back to sleep just yet...and Mark Conrad was soothing her as best he could, trying to keep her from becoming dangerously agitated. ''As hard as it was to talk about it, it was good for you in the long run,'' he told her. ''The more you try to hold in, the more those memories can continue to torture you. When you're ready - and _only _when you're ready - it would be best if you could tell someone the rest of it. Steve, Michael...myself...but talking through it will take away those memories' power to hurt you - a little more every time you can manage it.''

Jaime nodded. She didn't _want _to remember...but she didn't want Kingsley to have the power to hurt her any more than he already had. ''That roller coaster...'' she began. ''He...the whole way up, he kept telling me...I was gonna die...and that Steve would die with me...''

''That must have been terrifying.''

Jaime's eyes filled with tears but she found her courage...and kept going. ''When I was..._up there_...I could hear Steve whispering to me...and...and I couldn't answer him...I just _couldn't_...''

''You didn't want to endanger him any further,'' Mark concluded.

''Yeah...and Kingsley...I just don't get it..._why_...''

Mark nodded his understanding. In truth, he didn't know why either...but he knew that (with no memory of her previous work as an operative) this was Jaime's first glimpse of true _evil_ in this world, evil that was beyond anyone's comprehension.

* * *

Michael stared at the X-rays, searching for something - anything - that might have caused Russ's drastic change in personality...and the return to 'normalcy' that Michael still suspected was only a ruse. He was a renowned specialist in brain function and disorders...but if he couldn't find it, he couldn't treat it! There were no implanted chips...not even a microchip! Luckily for Jack Hansen, there was also no sign of a skull fracture; a good deal of concussive swelling, yes...but that was easily treated.

Then...a STAT page, directing him to Russ's room! Michael found him sitting up in bed, confusion and fear (instead of blankness or rage) clouding his features. ''What's going on here?'' Russ was demanding. ''Michael...what happened to my foot?''

* * *

Oscar still sat, 'trussed like a turkey' (as he would word it himself), wondering where in the _hell_ Hansen and his men were. He had no idea how long he'd been a captive; there was only darkness and the indeterminable passage of time in his tiny concrete prison. At first, he'd recited the Gettysburg Address and the Bill of Rights in his head, trying to stay alert and maintain his focus - but it was no use. Now he could only wait for the merciful release that the carrying out of his taped directive would bring...

* * *

Steve had slept (finally in his own hospital bed) for about an hour when the phone rang. ''We believe we have a location, Colonel. Our teams are on their way. And by your direction, using only the new scrambled OSI frequency to transmit.''

''Wonderful!'' Steve exclaimed (suddenly fully alert). ''Keep me posted. And _hurry!_!''

* * *

Jack Hansen was jubilant! His team back at The Hole had been successful in working over Kingsley's cohort. They had an address and were headed there at top speed...with the bomb.

* * *

Steve sat with the datacom in his hand, willing it to come to life with the transmission everyone was praying for - that Oscar was safe and Kingsley was in custody. The next ten minutes seemed like an eternity...and then...

''We've got Goldman, Colonel! He's alive!''

_Thank God!_''Great work, guys! What about Kingsley?''

''He's...not here.''

Like the true snake that he was, Kingsley had once again slithered from their grasp...but at least Oscar was safe! ''Bring Oscar to the ER,'' Steve instructed. ''Send the rest of the teams to continue searching for Kingsley - and notify Jack Hansen at the NSB.''

''You got it, Colonel. On our way.''

The car that would ferry Oscar to National Medical had barely pulled away from the curb when the house behind them exploded.


	31. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

''Russ, what's the last thing you remember?'' Michael asked (very carefully).

''Rudy pulled me out of a meeting...and they sent me home. And now I'm _here_...why?! What's happening to me?''

''We'll run some tests - and find out,'' Michael promised. This latest U-turn in Russ's state of mind was either the (inadvertent) work of Jack Hansen...or the (dark and ominous) work of Grant Kingsley. Between Mark Conrad and himself (with perhaps a consult from one of the greatest scientific minds of their time, currently in a bed just down the hall), Michael hoped they might finally be moving closer to the answer. He managed to quiet his patient's fears before being paged again (another STAT, no less), this time to the ER. For once, a STAT page to the ER brought excellent news. It was _Oscar_...and except for rope burns and some minor bruises, he was unharmed!

''Remind me to thank Jack Hansen,'' Oscar said with an ironic smile, ''for being one step behind.''

* * *

Nemesis turned the corner in his little white compact - and the firetrucks and emergency vehicles lining his block (three blocks down from where he'd just made the turn) told him exactly what had happened. _The NSB got there first_, he chortled to himself. _Excellent! That means Goldman's dead...and '01' can take charge...once I zap him again!_ He thanked the fates that both the prototype and the control device were safe in his car - and he turned the next corner (careful to take it at normal speed so as not to attract unwanted attention) and drove off into the night.

* * *

Steve had received almost immediate word of the explosion...and his anger (and blood pressure) rose to dangerous levels. He tuned his datacom to the NSB's main frequency and began to furiously transmit. ''Hansen, I know you can hear this, so I'll make it short. You _missed_ Oscar - thank God! And now you need to get your..._self_...back to National Medical and meet me in Rudy's office. You and I have things to discuss. _**Now**__._Over.''

''Listen here, Austin -''

''I said _Over_!'' Steve switched the NSB frequency 'off'' and leaned back against his pillows, talking himself out of what he _really _wanted to do to Hansen. A nurse interrupted his thoughts (and his fury) with welcome news: Michael had sent word from the ER that Oscar was in good condition and - after a night of rest and observation - would be able to resume his duties in the morning. Shifting gears (and moods) on a dime, Steve ignored Michael's order to stay off his feet and headed down the hall to share the good news with Jaime. Then - realizing it would also mean having to tell her Kingsley was still free - he took the elevator instead, down to Rudy's office to wait for Hansen.

It was a short wait. Hansen joined him within minutes, quietly closing the door and offering a verbal 'olive branch'. ''Congratulations, Colonel; that was some excellent work today. I don't mind telling you I'm relieved that your team got there first.''

Steve was having none of it! ''Do you realize what you've done?'' he seethed with a quiet anger that implied more of a threat than a shouted diatribe would have. ''Can you _begin_ to comprehend the damage you've caused? Our teams could've worked together, scoured that house from top to bottom and maybe - just maybe - found something that would lead us to Kingsley! But thanks to you and your _I was just following orders _crap...all of that potential evidence is gone!''

''Are you finished? Because yes, I was following orders - _your boss's orders_, I might add! Did you stop to think I might have disagreed with those orders just as strongly as you did? That's an issue to take up with Goldman - not with me! And as far as evidence goes, we have Kingsley's van and hopefully Oscar will be able to give us some good information -''

''No thanks to you!''

''So we're not exactly empty-handed,'' Hansen finished.

''Now I have to go back upstairs and tell Jaime that the man who _tortured_ her - and nearly killed us both - is still out there somewhere and we're not one millimeter closer to finding him than we were this morning. Wanna tell me just how I'm supposed to do that?''

* * *

Steve still hadn't figured out how to tell Jaime...but was relieved to find that Mark Conrad was still with her; she was going to need him. Mark got up to leave (and give Steve some private 'alone' time with Jaime) but Steve motioned with an almost imperceptible shake of his head that he needed the doctor to stay. Choosing what he hoped was the right approach (at the last possible second), he forced a smile as he approached the bed.

''Great news!'' he told her. ''We found Oscar - and he's alright!''

''That's wonderful! And that means you finally got Kingsley!'' Jaime exclaimed.

''Sweetheart...we didn't find him. But we will.''

''Then he's...still...out there...''

Indeed, he was...and much closer than anyone suspected...hunkered down and _waiting_. Oscar had said it best:

_**A cobra is always quietest when it's getting ready to strike.**_

* * *

The next morning at sunrise, the same two guards who had stood watch by Rudy's bed the day before returned to relieve the night shift. Nemesis, ever a master-of-disguises, sat unnoticed in his little white car in the rear parking lot. The device didn't require such immediate proximity...but he intended to witness and _savor_ the festivities...even if only through binoculars. He tuned his device first to '03'. ''Convince your partner to make a run to the cafeteria for coffee,'' he ordered. ''Then stand by the window to let me know it's done.'' He laughed aloud with psychotic glee when he saw the guard looking out at him...then switched the device to '02'. ''Wake up!'' he commanded. ''Go down to Jaime's room.'' (No one, he reasoned, would try and stop a _doctor_ from seeing his _patient_.) ''When you get there, close the door...press a pillow over her face and hold it there until she stops struggling...and just a little bit longer. Then open the door and have Doctor Marchetti and Steve Austin paged. You must seem terribly upset when you tell them she died in her sleep.''

* * *

END of Episode 7


	32. Chapter 31

Chapter 31(Episode 8)

Rudy's eyes snapped open and – unchallenged by the remaining guard (who was now Subject 03) - he got out of bed and made his way down the hall. He strode with great authority (and his head held high) but without any _true_ awareness into Jaime's room. The guards outside her door didn't question him; if the head of the entire hospital wanted to check in on his patient (and appeared well enough to do so). who were they to argue? Steve, Michael and even Hansen had erred seriously in not alerting Security to the _real _reason guards were needed at Rudy's bedside since they'd all believed his weakened condition (combined with the heavy sedation he'd ordered for himself) meant he was safe from Kingsley's reach. They couldn't have been more wrong.

Rudy quietly closed the door and moved in robotic-fashion toward the bed. He stared down at Jaime, seeing only his assigned target and not a young woman he loved as dearly as if she was his own daughter. He removed the spare pillow from the closet and returned to the bed, lowering his assigned implement of death until it was just inches from her face...and then he paused. Kingsley's command rang loud and clear in his mind but so did something else...something he'd abided by for more than three decades.

_Abstain from doing harm_...the Hippocratic Oath. It was so deeply ingrained into his very _soul _that it stood battle against Kingsley's orders. Still, unable to stop himself, Rudy hit Jaime's call button and then stood with both fists clenching the pillow, raising and lowering it as the two forces within him fought fiercely for control. Kingsley's commands were nearly impossible to resist though, and Rudy lowered the pillow onto Jaime's face.

''God...forgive...me...'' he murmured as the evil head of Cobra's wishes seized final control. Jaime woke up, unable to breathe but too weak to put up much of a struggle. At the same moment, Michael was heading down the hall to answer Jaime's call light himself. (It was unusual for her to be awake quite this early, and he hoped she hadn't had another nightmare.) He had no idea the nightmare she was suffering was very real...

''Why is her door closed?'' he asked the guards.

''Doctor Wells is in there,'' one of the guards shrugged.

Michael nearly broke the door in his rush to throw it open. He flew toward the horrific tableau, threw his arms around Rudy's waist and wrenched him away from the bed. ''Take him back to his room - and _keep him there!_'' Michael called to the guards.

''Thank...you...'' Rudy gasped as he was being led away.

Jaime was breathing...but far too weakly, in tiny, frightened little gasps. Michael grabbed the oxygen mask from the wall and pressed it to her face with one hand while smoothing her hair back soothingly with the other. ''You're going to be okay,'' he said softly. He wondered how much she had seen; did she know what had happened...and who had come so close to killing her? Jaime reached up to try and knock the mask away, either in panic or because she wanted to say something. ''Easy,'' Michael told her. ''Try and take some slow, deep breaths for me. That's good. And a couple more.'' Finally, he felt safe in removing the mask.

''Rudy...'' Jaime began slowly. ''He didn't...it wasn't...his fault. Kingsley...'' She shivered and burst into silent, tortured tears.

* * *

In the rear parking lot, Nemesis couldn't see exactly what had happened..but there wasn't the expected flurry of frantic activity on a Code Blue patient (who was already dead) that he'd been so joyfully anticipating. Somehow, his device had failed again. But it _worked_; he _knew_ that it did! Still, '01' and '02' had both somehow been wrestled from his control...at least temporarily. Disappointed but far from beaten, he pulled his car slowly from the lot and began planning anew.

* * *

Once Mark Conrad had arrived and could tend to Jaime's needs, Michael headed down the hall to see about Rudy. He was stopped on the way by Steve, who had seen Rudy being led back to his room by Security and was making his way out – very slowly and painfully - to see what was going on.

''What the hell just happened? I thought Rudy was sedated,'' he gasped, looking nearly ready to fall over.

''You need to get back in bed before we have to scrape you off the floor,'' Michael told him. ''I'll help you.'' He got Steve back where he belonged then told him carefully, ''I don't have time to fill you in right now; I need to check on Rudy first. Then I'll come back and talk to you about it, okay?''

''Is Jaime...alright?'' Steve persisted. He knew from the direction in which Rudy and the guards had come (and from his own instinct) that it involved her in some way.

''She will be. And I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?''

''Thanks, Doc.''

Wishing he could clone himself (and thus be in two or three places at once), Michael headed into Rudy's room. The older doctor was distraught. When Michael questioned him, it was quickly apparent that Rudy had no memory of getting out of bed - no idea how he ended up in Jaime's room - but his recollection of what he'd done (and what he'd almost done) was sharp and horribly clear for him. Maybe some time in the future he'd be their best source in trying to sort out Kingsley's madness...but for now, the monitor Michael had reattached was telling a tale they'd hoped they had finally escaped from: arrhythmia...and potentially another 'incident' with his heart.


	33. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Steve was having to fight mightily against the urge to get back out of bed...but he knew Michael was right. He'd overdone it - badly - yesterday but he'd really had no choice. Oscar would be returning to the helm at any moment now, so that weight was finally off of Steve's shoulders; he hadn't relished the responsibility but had taken it on willingly simply because he _had_ to. Still, he knew with more certainty than ever now that he didn't envy Oscar or Russ's jobs...not in the least. It had now been over an hour though...and Michael had not returned. _What _had happened to Rudy - and to Jaime? Steve couldn't even wheel himself down to find out, with only one usable arm!

''Good morning, Pal,'' a voice said from the doorway.

''Oscar! How _are _you?''

His boss and dear friend pulled a chair over to the bed. ''How I am...is _grateful_. I owe you my life, and -''

''And I was just returning the favor,'' Steve told him modestly. ''Remind me to talk to you about that damned 'directive' of yours. But right now, I think we have other problems.''

''Oh?''

''Something happened with Jaime...and Rudy - and _Security_. I can't find out anything, stuck in this bed!''

''I'll look into it, Pal,'' Oscar assured him. ''You just sit tight.''

''Thank you...and welcome back.''

There was a flurry of activity surrounding Rudy's bed that Oscar didn't think he should disturb - and Jaime's door was closed, with the Chief of Security himself standing guard. ''What happened here?'' Oscar inquired.

''It seems Doctor Wells...tried to kill her.''

''_**What**__?!_'' This was beyond Oscar's comprehension.

''Two of my own men are being questioned regarding possible knowledge - or complicity,'' the Security Chief concluded grimly.

''Kingsley...'' Oscar muttered, using the name as an expletive. ''Cobra strikes again.''

''Looks like it. I'm sorry, Sir; helluva 'welcome back' for you.''

''She's not alone in there...is she?'' Oscar wondered.

''Mark Conrad is with her.''

Oscar nodded acknowledgment and headed back down the hall to tell Steve - so they could put their heads together and try to stop Kingsley's reign of terror.

* * *

Jaime was frightened beyond tears. If Kingsley could make someone she loved and trusted do _that_...he was capable of _anything_. She struggled to find the right words. ''What if Rudy is..._gone_?'' Even her voice was trembling.

''They'll reach him,'' Mark promised (hoping it was the truth). ''Maybe they already have. And you're safe now.''

''We thought I was safe...before _this_...''

Unfortunately, she spoke the truth.

* * *

''Oscar, what do you remember about Kingsley?'' Steve asked, once Oscar had filled him in on what had happened to Jaime. ''Thanks to Hansen - and your directive - the evidence we could've found in that house is just...gone.''

''One thing I can tell you is that he doesn't match the photo we've got anymore. Not even close.''

''Terrific. That means he can come and go at will now.''

''Not for long; I've already given an updated description to Security and I'll be meeting with Hansen in about an hour.''

''Take me down there with you,'' Steve requested.

''Not a chance, Pal. You don't look like you're in any shape to -''

''Then take me in the damn wheelchair! Oscar, I spent all day yesterday working on this; you _need _my input!''

Oscar sighed. ''Promise me one thing, then? Well...two things. First, you stay in that chair. No pacing, no 'up and walking around' and absolutely no thought of going out into the field to hunt Kingsley yourself.''

''That's three things.''

''And _second_,'' Oscar went on (knowing all too well how his best operative's thought processes worked), ''as much as you might want to, you will _not _knock out any of Jack's teeth.''

''I can't promise that. But I'll do my best.''

''I'll be back for you in an hour. In the meantime, I'm going to see if I can talk to Russ.''

* * *

''We're _not _safe...anywhere...'' Jaime whispered (resisting the sedative Mark had given her). ''None of us are...''

''You need to _rest _now,'' Mark told her. ''I'll stay with you.''

But Jaime was too terror-stricken to close her eyes. ''What if he gets to you next...or Michael...or _Steve_? What if...he's already gotten to Oscar?''

* * *

''I don't remember much of anything, after you had me removed from that meeting,'' Russ explained to Oscar. ''But I understand now why you had to do it. Then I woke up here. I _need _to know what happened to me - but they won't tell me much of anything, not even what happened to my foot.''

Oscar surmised that Michael (and probably Mark Conrad and Steve) didn't want to corrupt any spontaneous memories Russ might still be able to bring forth by giving him information. While he was still in his own hospital bed the night before, Oscar had insisted on being briefed on everything that had occurred while he'd been gone. So much had happened in such a short time! Finding Grant Kingsley would have to be Top Priority for every Intelligence agency in the nation; no...their _only _priority!

''Maybe it'll start coming back to you, if you give it some time,'' Oscar suggested.

''Thing is, we don't _have _time! I might not know what happened...but I know we're dealing with a psychopath. We need to put every resource we have toward finding him - and I should be able to be one of those resources!''

It sounded like his right-hand man was _back_...but was he really? Oscar had been abducted by the younger man - at gunpoint, no less - but where Russ's eyes had been blankly robotic then, they were clear now and blazing with strength and determination. _Was_ he a resource...or a danger to himself and everyone around him?

* * *

''I've distributed your new description to my teams,'' Hansen began, ''and the sketch artist is on his way here to see what you can come up with.''

''Good; thank you,'' Oscar affirmed. ''Sure has been an eventful 24 hours.''

''It's been an ugly _month_,'' Steve said bitterly. ''He just keeps slithering away, one step ahead of us. Do you remember anything else? Anything at all?''

''He told me he wasn't going to use that..._thing _on me, that he wanted me to have a clear head to see what he was going to do next.''

''Which was...?'' Hansen probed.

''I don't know,'' Oscar admitted.

''But he never used that _device _of his on you, then?'' Steve asked.

''I was blindfolded...so I suppose he could have. But after he locked me up, I was awake the whole time and I never heard him come back. So I'm alright...I think.''


	34. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Mark Conrad watched Jaime as she slept...and her words echoed in his head. _We're not safe anywhere_. He realized that any one (or more) of them could be 'infected' by Kingsley's evil at any time...and how would they even know it until it was too late? He wondered what might be happening with Rudy and Russ but would wait right where he was for someone to bring him news of their conditions (or until Steve could get there to be with her). For the foreseeable future, Jaime needed him more. As a specialist in Post Traumatic Stress, he had heard some awful, unimaginable things from his patients...but what Jaime had been through defied even his comprehension. (And he knew she had barely scratched the surface in relating what that _snake _had done to her!)

There was a quiet knock on the door and then Michael stood in the doorway, waiting for him (not wanting to disturb Jaime's rest). ''How's Rudy?'' Mark asked, joining him in the hallway - but with his watchful eyes still on his sleeping patient.

''He's had another incident - and some pretty serious arrhythmia - but propranolol and nitro stabilized him...for now. He knows what happened...or enough of it, anyway,'' Michael explained. ''And Jaime...how's she dealing with this?''

''Not well. Seeing Steve would do her a world of good...but I know he's got his hands full.''

''I'll see what I can do,'' Michael promised, ''just as soon as he's out of that meeting.''

* * *

''What's the word on your assistant, Oscar?'' Hansen wondered.

''I'm still not sure I trust him,'' Steve cut in.

''I think...I do,'' Oscar replied. ''The person who held a gun on me and the one sitting up in that hospital room - they're two totally different people. Whatever was affecting him...I think it's passed.''

''We can't be sure of that,'' Steve argued.

''I have to agree with Austin on this one,'' Hansen said. ''If he truly is _back_, he could be a great help to us but there's just no reliable way to know for sure. He could also lead us straight down a blind alley at Kingsley's direction. I'd like to question him again and see -''

''_Absolutely not!_'' Steve insisted. His hands balled into fists but he kept his promise to Oscar and stayed in his wheelchair. ''Maybe if we tried pentothal again, it might jog something in his memory - but _I'll _do the questioning. If that's okay with you, Oscar,'' Steve added quickly.

''Of course,'' Oscar confirmed. ''I'll set something up for as soon as Michael has the time to supervise.''

''What about your Doctor Wells?'' Hansen asked. ''I understand there was an incident this morning. Has he been questioned yet?''

Oscar shook his head. ''Judging from what I saw, he's not in any condition for interrogation, questioning or even talking about what happened. I haven't spoken to Michael yet but it looked pretty bad from the hallway.''

''You're not getting anywhere near _him _either!'' Steve snapped at Hansen.

''Steve...'' Oscar warned. ''Look,'' he said (to both men), ''regardless of our personal differences, we need to pull together here and get a jump on Grant Kingsley - cut the head off of this 'Cobra' - before he can strike again!''

* * *

Steve was finally free to check on Jaime and (hopefully) spend some time with her. Oscar insisted on wheeling him there personally - and Mark Conrad found himself summoned to another whispered conference in the hallway. ''I'm sure glad to see you,'' he told Steve. ''And I know Jaime will be, too.''

''I won't disturb her,'' Steve promised (seeing that she appeared to be fast asleep). ''I'd just like to sit with her awhile, if that's okay.''

''Of course it is,'' Mark affirmed. ''She's not really sleeping though; just dozing lightly...and it took two doses of sedation to even get her that far. Seeing you will be far better medicine than another needle.''

''Anything I should know?'' Steve asked.

''Jaime was on tenuous ground, emotionally, before _this _happened, this morning. I can't say just yet if she'll be able to come back from this and function fully in the life she'd hoped for. Oscar, you may have to retire her permanently. And Steve...just keep doing what you're doing...loving her. That's her very best hope.''

''She's a lot stronger than we give her credit for,'' Steve said quietly. ''I guess time will tell, huh?''

''I guess so.''

''I'm gonna leave this chair out here, Doc,'' Steve told him. ''It's just one more reminder she doesn't need.''

* * *

Mark waited until Steve had safely (albeit painfully) made his way to Jaime's bedside, then turned to Oscar. ''Where do you want me first: Russ...or Rudy?''

''Russ,'' Oscar said decisively. ''Until we hear differently from Michael, it's best if we let Rudy rest. We may try pentothal with Russ again in a little while, but I'd feel better if you could help him with...all of this. I'm on my way to meet with a sketch artist, then I'll talk with Michael.''

Mark nodded and went to knock on Russ's door. ''I was hoping we could talk,'' he said.

Russ smiled (but with frightened eyes). ''I thought they might send you down here; I'm glad they did.''

''And why is that?''

''I want my job back,'' Russ said simply. ''And I know I have a long way to go before they'll trust me again. I was hoping you could help me with that...or at least help me understand what happened so I can process and deal with it.''

_He certainly __**sounds**__ like the 'old' Russ_, Mark thought to himself.

''What happened to me?'' Russ persisted. ''I've been trying so hard to remember - and it's just not there!''

''Stop trying so hard,'' the doctor suggested. ''I'd like to try something, if you're willing.''

''I'll do anything that might help,'' Russ answered.

''Alright. I want you to close your eyes and take a few nice, deep breaths. Good. Now picture yourself down in the woods by the lake. Don't force it...just hold that picture in your mind...''

* * *

Steve waited quietly next to Jaime's bed. She still dozed restlessly but seemed even more pale (and shaky) than she'd been when he'd last seen her. (Was it really only the night before?) Her (closed) eyes had deep circles beneath them, reflecting a pain that tore at Steve's heart. She had been the one who'd been brave (or daring) enough to suggest they draw Kingsley out of hiding so they could catch him. Now he could only hope she still had at least a little bit of that courage and _fight _left in her. Steve vowed he'd do anything in his power to stop that monster from hurting her again, protecting her with his very life if it should come to that.

When Jaime woke up...she was screaming.


	35. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

Steve hit the call light with the fingers of his left arm as he used his good arm to try and ease Jaime's thrashing and flailing about. For a few terrifying moments, she didn't seem to recognize him (or know where she was)...then her struggles faded along with her strength and she laid back against the pillow, sobbing quietly.

''You're alright, Sweetheart,'' Steve said in his most soothing voice. He moved from the chair to sit next to her on the bed, enveloping Jaime gently to his chest...and wishing he could hold her with _both _arms. ''You're safe. I'm here...and I've got you. You're safe.''

''He...he got to Rudy, Steve! _Rudy_...with his heart...''

''I know. But -''

''And...the guards...he got past all those guards...how?''

''We're working on that,'' Steve told her.

''He..got Rudy...and Russ...and who knows...how many others...''

Michael came rushing in, having heard Jaime's screams from down the hall, alerting him even before the call light went on. ''Another dream?'' he asked gently.

''Not...a dream,'' Jaime sobbed. ''It's real...all of it...is real...''

Michael took one look at the monitors and shot a worried glance to Steve, shaking his head to communicate that there was a problem. He rang for the nurse (who seemed to materialize almost instantly). ''Standard dose of coumadin and 20 milligrams diazepam, IV,'' he ordered. ''As fast as you can get them.''

Jaime's tears had ceased now, and her eyes glazed over as she shuddered violently against Steve's chest. Michael noted that he oxygen level was low - and dropping - so he reached for the mask on the wall. ''Slow and easy breaths for me, Jaime,'' he instructed. ''Keep holding her, Steve, until I can get her medicated. Nice deep breaths, Jaime.'' She was hyperventilating, breathing in short, panicked gasps. Too slowly (or so it seemed to both men), the oxygen and the soothing words Steve whispered in her ear helped to quiet her. Michael injected both syringes the nurse had returned with into Jaime's IV and her body quickly relaxed and then went limp against Steve's chest. ''You can lay her down now; she's out,'' Michael told him.

''Can she hear us?'' Steve asked.

''Between the sedative Mark gave her and the diazepam - Valium - she just got...no.''

''We can't keep doing this to her,'' Steve said softly.

''Until Kingsley is in custody...we may _have _to. She got the coumadin quickly this time - but what if the next time it happens in the middle of the night?''

''I'll be here to ring for help,'' Steve insisted. ''I'm not leaving her again. Oscar's back now and I can't go out and find the...monster...myself. But I _can _be here to help Jaime through this.''

''I don't like keeping her drugged any more than you do,'' Michael told him. ''Thanks to _his_ handiwork, there are too many people getting too many needles...but there really isn't an alternative. You saw what just happened; she can't _take _any more!''

''We have to give her the _chance _to be strong again,'' Steve proposed. ''Maybe in small, careful bursts of letting her stay awake - with Mark here to guide her through what she's feeling. I don't want to endanger her health or her well-being...but like I told Oscar and Mark today, Jaime's stronger than we're giving her credit for. She needs to know that we have faith in her ability to cope - even if it's just a little at a time - or she may never find that spark of courage again...and we'll really lose her. Please...let's give her a chance.''

''It...could work,'' Michael acknowledged. ''Mark knows how to read the monitors - and can administer medication when it's needed. And you know Jaime better than anyone else, so...alright; we'll try it. And I'll have them send in a gurney for you to rest on.''

''Thank you, Michael,'' Steve said, shaking his hand before returning his full attention to Jaime.

* * *

''Just relax, Russ,'' Mark instructed in a soft (almost hypnotic) voice. ''The lake is rippling off to one side of you and you can hear birds in the trees up above. You're very calm. _Feel _it...but don't force it. Just...very calm. Are you there?''

''Yes. I don't hear birds though.''

''That okay. What do you hear?''

''Buzzing. Loud...buzzing,'' Russ answered slowly. He flinched as if in pain.

''Does it hurt your head?''

''Not really...but it's so loud...and then something else...''

''Some_thing_ - or some_one_?''

''A voice...''

''Whose voice?'' Mark asked, careful to keep his voice low and even.

''I don't know.''

''That's okay too. What's the voice saying?''

''That I've done well. And then...there's something in my hand. It's...a gun! And he tells me...that I know what I'm supposed to do.''

''Who is _he_, Russ?''

Russ's eyes snapped open, his sense of calm completely dissipated. ''My God...it was _Kingsley!_''

* * *

Nemesis was overjoyed once again at his own brilliance. They would never think of looking for him here! His lower-level flunkies could bring him food and supplies...and he already knew the place like it was his home. The demented, discarded dolls that had so frightened Jaime were like old friends to him now. And any time he liked, he could take a leisurely stroll to the back of the park and re-live what had been one of his greatest thrills (so far). He could still vividly call upon the sheer joy he'd felt in carrying _her _up that lift hill, whispering the sweet promise of death to her all the way up...and then leaving her there, completely helpless.

It was almost a shame, really, that no one would think to look for him here - and a special pity that his favorite duo to torment seemed to be out of commission. If they were still able to come after him (yet again, as it had been such fun there at the park – and even in the attic), he'd probably have considered dropping a clue or two to lead them back to the scene of their greatest horror for one last bit of fun. But he'd take care of them in time. He'd take care of _all_of them...and then revel in the chaos!


	36. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

It was as far as Russ was able to go (for now) and as far as Mark was willing to take him. But what an excellent, hope-filled sign! Whatever Kingsley had done to Russ had not been erased or lost in some bizarre 'blanking out' of his brain. It was possible that, now that the barrier to those memories had been broken, more of what had happened to him might surface spontaneously...but at the very least, the memories were _still there_. Once he had Russ occupied with a pen and notebook (telling him to write down whatever came to him, but only as long as he felt calm and unthreatened in doing so), Mark set off to find Michael and tell him the great news.

He found the young doctor in his office with his feet up and a mug of coffee in his hand. ''Got a minute?''

''Does it involve putting my feet on the floor and _moving_?'' Michael asked (only half joking).

''Not in the least.''

Michael smiled warmly. ''In that case, come on in and help yourself to coffee.''

''Awful lot on your plate in the last few days,'' Mark noted. So far that day, Michael had examined (and released) Oscar, dealt with two patients who had threatened to go Critical (almost simultaneously), made rounds of everyone on the Level 6 floor, met with Rudy's cardiologist, Steve's surgeon and Oscar and Jack Hansen...then made rounds again. (And those were just the tasks that Mark knew about!)

''Been used to that since medical school,'' Michael told him. ''Still, a clone or two would be nice right about now,''

''I sure know that feeling.'' They both chuckled. ''I also know you could use some good news...and I have some! Mark Russell's memory isn't blank; and I don't think you'll need pentothal either.'' He related for Michael just how he'd taken Russ into a state of self-hypnosis and appeared to have at least broken the surface on what was still locked inside of him (that they'd all feared was gone from his memory banks).

Michael knew that Oscar and Steve would be as happy and relieved as he was; it was another real break in the hunt for Kingsley. It just might move them one step closer to ending the nightmare...for everyone.

* * *

They kept Jaime asleep until the next morning, then it was time to let her wake up...and hope for the best while staying prepared for the worst. The sedation 'piggyback' drip had only been removed from her IV line for less than an hour when Jaime began to stir, either fighting her way back to consciousness...or trying to escape from it. Steve clasped her hand, gently tracing her palm with one finger to comfort her on 're-entry'. She blinked several times...and then managed a weak smile.

''Mornin','' Steve said, beaming at her to hopefully let her begin drawing strength from that.

''It's...morning already?''

''You were pretty tired,'' Mark answered. ''How do you feel now, after a good long rest?''

''I'm...not sure.'' Jaime seemed to still be taking stock of herself...her body, her emotions...and her memories. Then she felt everything rushing back to her all at once, slamming into her with the force of a giant leaded sledgehammer: _His_ face, grinning down at her as he tormented her with _that knife_...his gleeful expression when his hurting Steve had finally evoked the reaction in her that he'd been waiting for. There were the things he'd said to her - some of which she hadn't given voice to or shared yet because they were simply too awful. And, of course, the horrific, terrifying trip up to the top of The Cobra coaster...

Jaime shivered and tears pearled in the corners of her eyes...but she gripped Steve's hand a little tighter and her expression (although frightened) was resolute. She looked directly into Steve's gaze first, drawing just enough courage there...and then turned her head to look at Mark. ''I guess...we have to talk...'' she began.

* * *

Nemesis walked the grounds - he considered them _**his**_ grounds now - and plotted his next move. This place suited him like no other. Devastation and destruction that would sadden even the hardest heart made _his_ soul sing with joy. The waves painted into the pavement were faded and disrupted by buckled sections of concrete and weeds that forced their way up through the cracks. He thought of himself as something like those weeds - out of place wherever he went, but _there _just the same, ready to destroy everything in his path as he grew stronger and even more persistently prominent.

He had (at least temporarily) lost control of Subject '01' and he wasn't certain about '02'...but he hadn't given up on either of them. And soon there would be more - so many more! He would wait a day or two, he decided, until the time felt exactly _right_ and then return to National Medical, laying wait in the parking lot to begin zapping selected targets with his prototype (which he'd been working on strengthening) until he'd fashioned himself a sort of automated army. He would throw the entire Intelligence community into chaos with one extra-special added benefit - his 'old pal' Rudy (who was everything Nemesis was not: well-respected, successful and highly-placed in that damnable Intelligence community) would be at the center of it all.

Nemesis was content to wait for the perfect moment to strike _**hard**_ and _**fast**_- just like the cobra they compared him to - and then slither away to destroy and annihilate again at will.


	37. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Russ picked up the notebook from his bedside table, found the pen and then (with both pen and paper resting in his lap), sat back and closed his eyes, relaxing himself the way Mark Conrad had taught him. It had certainly worked for him last night! Once he'd gotten started it seemed like he just couldn't stop writing. As Conrad had suggested, Russ didn't pause to think about what he was writing - or even read it over once it was written. He just _wrote_. Much of it was in short bursts, word or phrases rather than complete sentences.

_Buzzing...hearing that BUZZ...no, __feeling__ the BUZZ...a noise I can __feel_

Wake UP! Break those restraints...leave the hospital...

_by any means necessary__..._

Punched them...Broke a window with a chair...I have a GUN...have to find Oscar...Oscar found me...

Finding that calm place within himself again, Russ opened his eyes, picked up the pen and continued to write.

* * *

''We don't _have _to talk, Sweetheart,'' Steve told Jaime gently, ''unless you're ready and feel up to it. But it might do you a world of good.'' He glanced over at Mark, who nodded his assent; according to the monitors, she was okay.

''I'm not even sure...where to start,'' Jaime told them both.

''Wherever you feel most comfortable,'' Mark answered. ''You can start at yesterday and work your way back - over time, not all at once - or you can start in the attic and work your way forward. Or anywhere in between, if there's something that's especially troubling you. Steve and I are here to listen...and to help.''

''Yesterday...morning...'' she began, flinching at the memory but trying to find the words she _needed _to say, regardless of how deeply frightened she felt.

''You woke up and couldn't breathe,'' Mark prompted, trying to aide her, to prop her up at least a bit with his own words.

''It must have been beyond scary,'' Steve added, his hand steady on Jaime's shoulder, trying to let her know she was _safe_.

''Yeah...'' She hadn't been able to see, either - and had no idea what was happening or who was doing this to her. She only knew with awful certainty that she was dying. _Kingsley_, her mind had told her as she'd struggled for oxygen - he'd come back for her, just as she'd _known _he would! She was almost blacking out, giving in to the darkness, when air suddenly rushed into her lungs and she caught the briefest glimpse of Rudy with a pillow in his hands.

What truly froze her with fear, what had made her wake up screaming from a double dose of sedation, was the knowledge that if Kingsley was able to make such a gentle, sweet soul do..._that_...he could get to _any_ of them and force them to do practically _anything_! How could she even be sure the she, herself, had not been 'infected' by his evil? Jaime felt like a helpless victim (not a mantle she wore easily), waiting for the next blow to come, not sure where it would come from but knowing with an utterly sinking feeling that it was coming.

* * *

''So...how am I doing, Doctor?'' Rudy asked. (He, too, had been allowed to awaken so his physical and mental states could both be assessed.) He saw that there were now _four _armed 'penguin suits' surrounding his bed, instead of a pair of Security guards and this reassured him.

''Much stronger than yesterday; I'm very optimistic,'' Michael replied.

''About yesterday -''

''We've don't need to talk about this right now, Rudy. You should probably rest.''

But Rudy _needed _to talk about it. ''Thank you - for stopping me,'' he told his protege.

Michael knew that the attack had awakened Jaime from her sleep and its sudden nature (along with her position on the bed versus where the call button was located) meant that Rudy had pressed that button, sending out a call for help. ''I think you stopped yourself,'' Michael told him.

* * *

_You don't need the gun...Let's talk..._Russ's brain was firing images from his memory almost faster than he could write them down. He didn't dare stop to think about what he was writing; he just kept going, knowing he was getting somewhere - and it was important.

_Grabbed him...still had the gun...out of the woods now...green van on dirt road...back doors opened..._

Russ dropped the pen to the floor when the realization (no longer locked in his subconscious) hit him. **He had turned Oscar over to Kingsley!**

* * *

The more she spoke, the more Mark and Steve could hear strength and quiet determination returning to Jaime's voice. She feared for Rudy and Russ (and for _everyone_, really) as much as she feared for herself. ''There's...a lot more,'' she admitted, ''especially from...the park.''

Steve nodded, knowing she'd been held for hours before he'd gotten there. Mark nodded his understanding too - and stepped closer to the bed. ''You'll tell us about it when you're ready,'' he said. (The way Jaime's voice had begun trailing off at the mere thought of the amusement park told him she wasn't quite ready to talk about that yet.)

But - whether she was ready or whether she wasn't - Jaime persisted. ''There's...so much there...and maybe it could help...''

Steve shot Mark a quick look of alarm as Jaime started to tremble. She'd had enough - and both men knew it. ''We'll talk more about this - or whatever you need to talk about - later,'' Mark promised. He was beginning to loathe putting his patients 'out' as much as Michael did, but Jaime had done very well for her first try and there was no point in letting her endanger herself. With Steve's back blocking Jaime's view of his motions, he pulled the sedative from his jacket pocket and injected it into her IV.

''What's the status...on Kingsley now?'' she asked, even as her eyelids began to flutter. ''Because...I want to help...find him...I'm..._going to help!_...''


	38. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Steve and Mark both hoped it had just been a random utterance as Jaime had been drifting off...but when she woke up, there it was again, in slightly altered (but even more determined) form.

''We're gonna _get _him, Steve! And...I'm gonna help!''

''Out of the question!'' Steve told her. ''I can't even help right now...and I'm not flat on my back in a hospital bed.''

''You're in no condition - either one of you - to be out hunting a madman,'' Mark chimed in.

''Well, I _know _that!'' Jaime told them both. ''But we can work on it, right?''

Mark noticed that she was sounding more like her 'normal' self already...but wondered if that was at least in part because she was avoiding the very subject she needed most to discuss (in order to be truly _healthy _again). ''Of course, we'll work on it,'' he responded. ''But you have to be patient with yourself, Jaime and -''

''And there's no time for...being _patient _with myself!''

It was Steve's turn to try and reason with her. ''Sweetheart, the best way for you to help this investigation is to listen to Mark - and to Michael - and work your way through this. Maybe along the way you'll remember something that we can pass along to the field teams. But Mark's right...you need to take it slowly and -''

Jaime was having _none_ of it! ''You can't sedate a healthy patient, right?'' she demanded of Mark. ''It would be unethical.''

''But I can - and _would_- sedate someone I felt was in danger of doing something irrational that would place them at risk of serious harm.''

''Okay. I'll give you that one,'' she said (still sounding quite sensible and in complete control of her emotions). ''But the first step, then, is still to get me healthy again, right?''

Mark couldn't suppress a (slight) smile. ''Slowly and carefully, yes.''

''Great! So let's get started.''

Steve leaned in closer to the bed but stayed quiet, sensing that the rapport between doctor and patient was what was most important now. He was simply there for moral support, when needed.

''Where would you like to start this time?'' Mark asked.

''Well, I guess the best shot at coming up with anything usable,'' she ventured (still sounding more like an OSI operative than a badly-weakened patient), ''is the time I was alone with him...right?'' Without waiting for an answer, Jaime closed her eyes and began _forcing _herself back into memories she would've much preferred to leave forgotten. When she opened her eyes again and tried to speak, the change was dramatic - and alarming. Her face instantly paled several shades, her eyes had filled with tears that were already streaming down her cheeks and her body quivered with raw terror. She was about as far as she could get from the fiery determination she'd exhibited just moments earlier; she even seemed to have grown smaller in the bed (as if trying to shrink away from what her mind was showing her).

Mark almost stopped her right there (while she was still struggling to get out the first few tortured words) but the monitor readings were good so he decided to let her go...and see where she took them. Jaime had to pause every few seconds to catch her breath, choke back a sob and find another speck of courage to continue...but continue, she did. It was obvious to both men that she was no longer 'present' in the room with them; Jaime was reliving (and _feeling_) every moment of what she related to them.

She started by talking about the last part of the van ride...and the daunting realization that 'The Drill Man' was still alive. They'd chloroformed her again - for the 4th time - when they reached their destination and when she woke up, she'd found herself chained in that dental chair...all alone. She described her surroundings and how (when she simply couldn't look at the devastation any longer) she'd closed her eyes...and heard _his _voice. He had forced her to open her eyes with cruel jabs of his knife and even crueler verbal jabs, taunts and dark, vicious threats.

Steve could hardly bear to listen as Jaime recounted (for the first time to anyone) just how Kingsley had forced an audible reaction from her during the phone call that had been designed to lure him in, too...

Mark saw the monitor readings begin to drift off-course, decided Jaime had done enough for now...and told her so, making sure to praise her efforts as he stuck the needle into her IV. ''It was...so awful there...'' she concluded, the grogginess already setting in, ''that I couldn't...even _look_ at it...but he...he was...right at home...''

* * *

Nemesis gathered every food wrapper and every trace that he had ever been there from the floor and threw them into two large bags that he'd take with him in the morning. His flunkies could dispose of them in a dump somewhere, leaving no trace of himself, no sign that he'd ever returned to the place that felt most like 'home'. His prototype was tuned to maximum strength - as was the actual mind control device - and tomorrow he would set the best part of his plan into motion, laying the groundwork for fireworks the likes of which the OSI had never seen...and from which they might never recover!


	39. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Once again, Nemesis was able to drive straight into the parking lot at National Medical without being challenged. He looked nothing like his photo - and nothing like the newly-developed sketch Oscar had worked so hard to help create, either. In fact...he no longer looked like a _HE_. They might be watching for an out-of-place orderly, a man with a cap over his head ...brunette or white-blond...but they didn't question the (pitifully ugly) 'female' from housekeeping who dutifully presented her ID as she pulled into the lot. The ID was courtesy of Subject '03', the only one who seemed to be functioning normally (in Nemesis' definition of _normal_). Nemesis wasn't the least bit worried about '01' and '02'; he'd be regaining them this morning...along with the acquisition of as many more subjects as he chose to 'take'. While he was waiting for them to 'blank out', he would return to his 'home' and continue using '03' (who had passed questioning and close scrutiny and returned to work) to create easy, modified forms of chaos...and gather information. Getting '03' had been entirely accidental but it was Oh-so-satisfying having someone with his position roaming the facility and grounds at will. He would be an excellent source of information!

The housekeeper began 'her' patrol of the grounds (feigning 'garbage duty') and it was so easy that Nemesis almost whistled out loud as he took aim at each of two windows and fired his prototype (hidden from view by the garbage cart). Soon enough, the shifts inside the hospital changed from night to day and the 'housekeeper' moved to the side of the building (with a clear view of the main parking lot) to continue picking up garbage there...firing randomly at nurses, Security guards and 'penguin suits' as they headed to their cars.

* * *

Russ woke with a low moan just before sunrise; it was back...that awful _BUZZ_ that he felt rather than heard. Except this time, it wasn't a dream or something he'd recalled under self-hypnosis. It was happening _right now_! Then he heard _that voice_, telling him to go to the window and he grabbed hard to his bed rails to keep from getting up...but found he was (strangely) _not _feeling compelled to obey. The voice was more of a beckoning to him (rather than an irresistible order) and he remained glued to his bed The oddness of his motions and expression attracted the immediate attention of the 'penguins' who were watching him.

''Call for Michael Marchetti and Oscar Goldman - and get them up here NOW,'' he told them urgently.

* * *

Rudy didn't move or open his eyes, but his mind recognized 'his' tone of the BUZZ Russ had spoken of. He tossed and moaned lightly in his sleep as the voice once again registered in his head. The heart monitor began to show a very slight arrhythmia but not enough to set off the alarm. And still he slept on...

* * *

Jaime, too, was tossing restlessly. Her struggle immediately woke Steve (who'd been sleeping on a gurney right next to her bed). He debated waking her (not wanting to make things any worse) but instead perched on the edge of her bed and caressed her cheek, allowing Jaime to wake up gently on her own. In spite of Steve's ministrations she woke in a blind panic, her eyes wild with fear.

''He's...here, Steve!'' she gasped. ''He's _here_...and he's after us!''

* * *

The teams that had been sent to FunWorld (alerted by Steve, who'd had a hunch after Jaime told them how it seemed like Kingsley was 'home' there) spent hours combing the park and found no trace of their quarry. The park still sat abandoned and forgotten like a dead - but once powerful - giant. They didn't know that the giant merely lay slumbering, awaiting its master - who was looking forward to what his twisted mind was thinking of as 'The OSI's Last Stand'!

* * *

''Security would grab him in a heartbeat,'' Steve soothed. He tried not to wince in pain as his left hand hit the button that would summon Mark Conrad. ''He'd never get past the gates. You're safe, Sweetheart.''

Jaime shook her head. ''He found a way!'' she insisted vehemently. ''He's _here_; I can _feel _him!''

Steve found himself believing her. He keyed up his datacom. ''This is Colonel Austin,'' he transmitted. ''All available units, search the facility and the grounds for anyone who doesn't belong here. Check Ids and _be thorough_. Report to Oscar Goldman with findings ASAP - or sooner!''

It would already prove to be too late. While Jaime's instincts had been on target, the little blue hatchback (Nemesis' vehicle-of-the-day) had already pulled out of the lot, headed for an abandoned helipad and his transport 'home'. The snake had once again managed to slither out of their grasp.

* * *

Russ related to Michael (and then to Oscar) what he had heard...or (more accurately) _felt_. ''It was just the way I remembered,'' he told them. ''The buzzing in my head and then his voice. Except this time, I didn't _have _to listen to him. I mean, he tried, but...''

This was _excellent _news! Somehow, Kingsley's hold over Russ appeared to be broken! ''Russ, do you think you could recognize the frequency of the BUZZ, if you heard it again?'' Oscar asked. (He remembered how Jaime had been able to pinpoint the location of Franklin's base by tuning into the frequency of the fembots.)

''I could try,'' Russ offered. ''But it was more of a feeling than a sound; I don't really know how to explain it.''

Still, it was well worth a try!

* * *

Outside, at the main entrance, a guard was recounting the way the ugliest 'housekeeper' he'd ever seen had arrived for work but left soon after. The security tape was pulled, with a clear shot of the 'woman' behind the wheel and the license plate of the car 'she' was driving. The pieces were beginning to come together.

Subject '03' stood nearby (having been pulled from his position at Rudy's bedside upon arrival of the penguins...and reassigned to the guard shack.) For now, he simply waited...and listened.


	40. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Russ was unable to pinpoint a frequency for his _BUZZ_ing. Some came close, but he was only hearing - not _feeling_ - them Some were too high-pitched for his normal human ears to pick up...but he didn't _feel_ those either. Still, he'd been able to resist the 'sound' _and_ the command that followed; if only they could pinpoint _why_!

''The only thing I can suggest,'' Michael began (in yet another hurried hallway conference) ''is the concussive blow to his head. Or rather, several concussive blows.''

''We can't very well go down to Rudy's room and slam him in the head,'' Oscar said grimly.

''No, we can't,'' Michael agreed. ''Maybe I could start working on a compound that would affect the body - and especially the brain - in the same way. But even then, it would be too dangerous to give it to Rudy, in his condition.''

''There _has_ to be a way!'' Oscar insisted. While a chemical compound (or even an actual blow to the head) wouldn't prevent the head of Cobra from trying to claim new victims, it just might prevent him from gaining control of their minds.

* * *

''They didn't find him, Jaime,'' Mark had to (very reluctantly) tell her. ''Maybe you had another nightmare; I know they feel very real to you and -''

''No!'' she told him (her eyes pleading with Steve to back her up). ''I wasn't..._dreaming_ anything! Not this time! I had goosebumps; I could just _feel_how close he was! Steve...tell him!''

''Her instincts are as good as mine,'' Steve said quietly. ''That's why I called for a search. But Sweetheart, maybe this time...we were both wrong.''

''Would you like to talk more now?'' Mark asked. ''Or would you rather rest awhile first?''

''You mean, would I like another needle...right? No. I want...I _need_ to help...and if talking through it is the only way - at least until I'm healthier - then it's what I have to do.''

She was already worked up, but the monitor readings were steady. ''Okay, Jaime,'' Mark told her, ''where would you like to start?''

''What he liked...better than anything...was _hurting _us,'' she remembered. She dove back into her memory of the knife as an example. He hadn't stopped prodding and tormenting her with it until he'd succeeded in inducing fear he could see, hear...and savor. Jaime was once again having a visible physical reaction to what she was recounting. Steve held her hand in his left and caressed her cheeks, forehead and hair with his right as she courageously made herself keep going.

''It was the same...when he called you,'' she told Steve. ''And even more when...you got there.'' It was becoming more difficult to bring the memories forward, talk about them - and especially relive them - but Jaime had the feeling she was onto something so she tried her hardest to keep going. ''The _look_...in his eyes...when he - he hurt you and made me scream...'' In spite of her best efforts to hold them back, tears poured down her cheeks and the slight shaking she'd exhibited as soon as she'd started recounting the story turned into full-fledged trembling.

''I think she's had enough,'' Steve told Mark.

Jaime shook her head...and kept going. ''He wanted more...than to just _terrorize_ us...he wanted to _see_ it...and _hear _it...especially when...he...'' (She started stumbling over the words as things grew even more difficult for her to deal with.) ''When he...took out my power pack and...and carried me up that hill...''

She couldn't go on - and Jaime knew it. She nodded to Mark that she'd had enough and was ready to accept the hated needle. Steve cradled her in his good arm until she was out, then looked squarely at Mark. What Jaime had said struck a chord with him.

''Maybe if we don't give him the reaction he's looking for - if we say nothing on the datacom and maintain radio silence - it'll take the 'fun' out of it for him and at least slow him down.''

Mark had to disagree. Like Jaime had also said, Kingsley didn't stop until he'd _gotten_ that reaction in the past. Radio silence (and the thought that his 'efforts' were being ignored) would only cause him to ramp things up even further...endangering them all until he'd gotten everything he desired. Either way, Jaime had succeeded in giving them valuable insight. They just had to figure out the best way to use it!

* * *

That night, Subject '03' relieved his predecessor and talked his way into assisting efforts _inside _the facility. He maintained a sense of absolute normalcy (as per instructions he had no recollection of receiving). ''Anything I should know?'' he inquired of a cohort also charged with walking the first floor.

''You won't see much of the doctors,'' he was informed (meaning Marchetti and Conrad), ''or of Goldman either. They've got their hands full up on Three.''

''Oh? Something happen?'' '03' wondered.

''When _doesn't _something happen, these days?'' his partner said ironically. ''But yeah. They thought the Cobra guy was on the grounds; turned out to be a false alarm but they're still dealing with the fall-out.''

'03' gave a nod and continued on his way. He made a quick pass through the cafeteria and (in an action he had no knowledge of and wouldn't remember afterward), he inserted a handful of change into the payphone and dialed a number...

* * *

''Keep me posted, Pal,'' Oscar requested, patting Steve on the shoulder. ''And stay with our girl; keep her safe.''

''I will. We were right, Oscar; she's a lot stronger than we were giving her credit for. You should've seen her today. The courage it took for her to keep going and come up with what she did...''

''You don't have to convince me. I know she's amazing.''

''One thing worries me most of all though,'' Steve said slowly.

''And that is...?''

''Jaime keeps dropping these comments about how talking is the only way she can help _for now_. I don't like the sound of _for now_.''

''Just keep an eye on her, Pal,'' Oscar requested.

''_Both _eyes,'' Steve confirmed.


	41. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

Over the next couple of days, Jaime continued to battle her way 'back' until her condition seldom required sedation any longer, except at night. She fought her way through each session with Mark Conrad by turning her fear into a grim determination not to let Kingsley win. He'd terrorized her long enough; she wanted him out of her head...and out of all of their lives! Between sessions, she talked quietly with Steve or (when he was out of the room) practiced getting up and standing on her own, moving as far from the bed as the monitor wires would allow. Steve came back from a meeting with Oscar and Hansen earlier than she expected...and caught Jaime out of bed. He cleared his throat quietly from the doorway and she froze in place like a small child with one hand in the cookie jar.

''I know what you're doing,'' he told her, helping her back into bed as best he could with one arm. She'd apparently only been feigning a nap when he'd left for the meeting but he was more worried about her than angry at her deception.

''What I'm doing...is going stir crazy just laying in that bed!'' she answered (evading the real reason - and they both knew it).

''Jaime Lyn...do I need to tell Michael _and _Mark about this?''

''I'll behave,'' Jaime promised. _For now_...she concluded in her head.

Steve heard the second two words just as clearly as if she'd spoken them; he knew her that well.

* * *

''Jaime wants to know how much longer she'll need the monitors,'' Michael told Mark later that day, when they met in Michael's office to discuss their mutual patient-load.

''I know.''

''And she really doesn't - physically - need to be on them anymore.''

''But they keep her safely tethered to that bed,'' Mark said with a wry chuckle.

''Exactly. How's the therapy coming?''

''Her recuperative powers are extraordinary. I knew Kingsley did - and said - some really awful things to her...but I had no idea _how _awful. For Jaime to have come through this as unscathed as she has..simply amazing. I mean, she'll continue to have flashbacks and nightmares on and off, probably for a very long time but she's been so tenacious at trying to work her way through it. And Steve's been right there with her the whole time, helping her every step of the way.''

Michael smiled. ''Good. Well, I can't stall her any longer; she knows she's gotten stronger. I'll remove the monitors tonight.''

''What about Rudy Wells - how's he doing?'' Mark wondered.

''He'd like to talk with you. I'd been worried about how that would affect his condition - so I've been putting him off about that idea - but he's reached the point where it's going to do him more harm physically to sit and dwell on what happened by himself than it might if he sits with you and actually talks about it.''

Mark nodded. ''I'll go and see him as soon as we're finished here.''

* * *

Russ, meanwhile, was in a meeting of his own - with Oscar. He was looking toward leaving the hospital in another day or two, provided he kept daily appointments with both Mark and Michael. But while both doctors were almost ready to release him from the continuous care of being an inpatient, the other portion of the decision fell to Oscar. Russ knew he still wouldn't be allowed back to work for a very long time (if ever) because what had happened had been so serious...but right now the loss of his career wasn't pressing on his mind so much as the (potential) loss of his mentor's trust.

He needn't have worried. Oscar knew with certainty that if he was standing across from Grant Kingsley in a final showdown and Russ stood between them with a gun, that gun would be trained on _Kingsley_; Russ would still - and always - have his back.

* * *

''I can't imagine what Jaime thinks of me now,'' Rudy began miserably.

''You're one of Kingsley's victims, just like she is; Jaime knows that,'' Mark assured him. ''You need to know it too.''

''I just can't comprehend how...'' the older doctor's voice trailed off.

''Sometimes an act is so evil that it's beyond _anyone's_ comprehension - but that would be the act of that..._snake_...not you. Look at it like this: _his_ hands held that pillow; _your _hands rang the call button.''

''Will Jaime ever trust me to treat her again?'' Rudy wondered.

''She already does.''

* * *

That night, Nemesis' eyes glowed almost as brightly as the oil lamp and flashlight he was using to light the kiosk. It was _finally _time! He tuned his device to '03'...and started things in motion, then began rapidly tuning his way through almost two dozen frequencies, giving initial instructions to some and issuing full commands to others. Within National Medical, in the smallest hours of early morning, things began to happen exactly as he'd envisioned them. '03' pulled a Security van up to the rear exit while other guards (and penguins) stood blankly at their posts. When '03' brought a wheelchair up to Rudy's room, the doctor was wide awake in his bed...and climbed into the chair without the need for words. He was wheeled into the back of the waiting Security van...and driven off to the helipad. It wouldn't be until hours later (at the morning shift change) that anyone would notice he was missing...and Nemesis planned to alert the OSI himself (before then) of the good doctor's disappearance.

_Let the fireworks begin! _he hissed gleefully to himself.


	42. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

Jaime's bedside phone rang at 4:15am. She rolled over groggily...but Steve was already on it. ''This is Colonel Austin,'' he said, still more than half-asleep.

The voice on the other end was harsh - and wide awake. ''What are you? Her damned guard dog?'' he snarled.

Steve was instantly wide awake too. ''Close enough. Who is this?'' He knew _exactly _who it was - and Jaime knew too.

''Santa Claus! Who the _hell _do you think it is?''

''What do you want?'' Steve demanded.

''I didn't call _your _number, did I? Put the fair maiden on the phone. Now.''

''Whatever you need to say, you'll say to me,'' Steve told him.

''At least be a gentleman and _share _the phone,'' Nemesis said in a sickly-sweet voice. ''I know she'll enjoy hearing this too.''

''Not on your life.'' Steve knew Jaime was listening bionically but there was nothing he could do about that.

''Fine. Then listen carefully. I am currently in possession of someone you both care very dearly for. Someone the OSI - and that hospital in particular - would simply hate to lose.''

Jaime gasped and her frightened eyes met Steve's grave ones. There could only be one person he'd be talking about. ''You're bluffing this time,'' Steve told him. ''You'd never have gotten past Security.''

''I didn't have to. I'd tell you to go down the hall and check for yourself, but that would mean leaving the little lady all alone - and you'd be a pretty poor guard dog then, wouldn't you?'' Nemesis laughed...and the sound made Jaime shiver.

''If he's really there with you, put him on the phone,'' Steve insisted.

''As you wish,'' the voice that dripped with evil told him. ''You're up, Doctor.''

''Jaime? I need your help,'' Rudy said urgently, exactly as instructed. He'd been 'pre-programmed' for the call, under the assumption that Jaime would answer her own phone. Nemesis took the bulky portable phone back from his automaton and grinned approval at him anyway, even if Rudy's eyes currently held no awareness.

''You see?'' Nemesis chortled. ''He doesn't want you. He wants _her_!''

''Not on your life!'' Steve seethed.

''Do you think I care about my life at this point, _Colonel_? But I know you care about _his_. From the time I hang up this phone, Jaime has 90 minutes to get here - and she knows where 'here' is -''

''She's not coming,'' Steve said flatly.

''Your choice. You can come with her, if you must. But if you show up alone, you and the good doctor _both _die. Ninety minutes.''

''You're insane. It takes at least two hours to drive there!'' (Steve knew, of course, that he could take a chopper...but he was trying to buy any extra time that he could.)

''Which is why you'll fly. Takes less than half the time; I know...I've flown it myself. I'm only going to say this once. The chopper will set down in the grass by the lake - _inside _the grounds. Jaime will get off...and you as well, if you insist...then the chopper is to leave immediately. If any vehicles enter the lot or I see any other 'birds' in the air before she's been here one full hour...well, let's just say it'll get really ugly, really quickly. Ninety minutes starts NOW, Colonel.'' Nemesis abruptly hung up.

''Steve...'' Jaime began.

''Forget it; I'm going without you.'' He keyed up his datacom. ''Oscar, I need you in Jaime's room, as fast as you can get here!'' Then he turned to Jaime, leaned in and kissed her. ''When Oscar gets here, tell him what's happened. Tell him all of it. And tell him to give me an hour's head start before he tries to follow.''

''Steve, this is _Rudy's __**life **_we're talking about! And you heard what he said! Besides, you can't possibly fight anyone off; that arm'll pull you right off-balance!''

''You're in no condition either -''

''I have a better chance than you do - and there's no time to argue about this, Steve!''

Steve poked his head out the door to summon Security. ''Get Goldman up here, faster than ASAP!'' he ordered...and was met only with blank stares.

''Sweetheart,'' he said quietly, returning to the bed. ''He got to the guards too.''

''Oh, God...''

''You need to wait for Oscar. Please!'' He could only hope she'd listen because she was right; there was no time to argue. There was scarcely enough time to summon the medevac's pilot, get himself dressed and get up to the helipad on the roof (which was exactly how Kingsley had planned it, in giving him 90 minutes). Steve kissed Jaime one more time and took off down the hallway at nearly breakneck speed. He stopped first to wake Russ. ''I don't have time to explain,'' he told him. ''I need you to arrange for the medevac pilot to meet me on the roof as fast as he can get there. No...faster than that! And - damn! - you don't have your weapon, do you?''

The 'penguins' at Russ's bedside looked as blank as the Security guards. They'd been instructed not to interfere in any way and stood back, watching so mutely that Steve hadn't even noticed them in his focused rush.

''Oscar gave it to me last night; I'm going home tomorrow. It's in the nightstand. Steve...what's happening?''

Steve took the weapon. ''Get the details from Jaime - _after _you get me that pilot!'' he called over his shoulder. He reached his own room in less than an eye blink, got dressed and ran for the elevator, taking it straight up to the roof. The pilot hadn't arrived yet...but someone else had.

''Get out of the chopper, Jaime!'' Steve told her.

Jaime shook her head. ''I'm _going_!'' she insisted. She was still dressed in her hospital garb, with her street clothes in her lap as she sat stubbornly in the chopper. She would change once they were in the air, she reasoned; it had been the only way to beat Steve to the chopper. ''You heard what he said! And I'll get another chopper if I have to...but _I am going!_ So you may as well let me get there _on time_...with you. Neither one of us can do this alone,'' she pleaded, ''but together, we just might have a chance! _Partners_...remember?'' The elevator returned, this time with the pilot. ''I left a note for Oscar,'' she concluded (not budging from her seat).

Just mere minutes later, Oscar found the note that Jaime had written with bionic haste. _Kingsley has Rudy. Steve and I are going after him. FunWorld. Wait 1 hour before coming after us or he'll kill everyone._

Russ rounded the doorway within seconds. As soon as he'd found the pilot for Steve, he'd gotten dressed and come running down the hall. Oscar didn't give it a second thought. ''We're going to FunWorld,'' he told his young assistant.


	43. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Four men waited together on National's helipad. An OSI-owned S-76 (''Spirit'') helicopter - faster than a medevac - was on the way to pick up Russ and Oscar. With luck, they might even arrive in Octotillo before Steve and Jaime...but they'd be landing several miles away and going in on foot so Kingsley might not detect their presence. Michael had anesthetized Russ's foot (giving him a second needle to shoot directly into the foot upon their arrival). The first shot would get him there, at least close to the entrance of the park. Hopefully the second would allow him enough time on his feet (or rather, his foot) to do what needed to be done. The bullet wound was healing nicely now...but when the anesthetic wore off, Russ would definitely _feel _it!

A second medevac had also been ordered, for Michael, Mark Conrad and a small team of medics (who would arrive with the chopper). A convoy of teams from all four Intelligence agencies (comprised of men who hadn't set foot near National Medical, in the hopes that no one had been 'zapped') was speeding toward Octotillo where they would wait for the signal to move in.

''They'll never make it,'' Oscar said, voicing his worst fear aloud. Steve's arm...Jaime's..._condition_...it was suicidal for them to even try! ''Tell us anything you can about Kingsley,'' he requested of Conrad.

''He's psychotic - you know that - but his thinking is very, _very_ clear now. Best example I can give you is a guided missile; nothing will stop him from achieving his goals. _Nothing_. His back is against the wall and he has nowhere to go...but that's by his own design. He _wanted _it this way. He plans to take as many people down with him as possible, especially - for whatever reason - Jaime, Steve...and Rudy.''

''The proverbial _down in a blaze of glory_,'' Russ summarized.

''Exactly. And with that in mind..._Steve and Jaime don't stand a chance._''

* * *

''When we land,'' Steve told Jaime, ''I want you to get off the chopper, let Kingsley see you, to draw him out - and then get straight back on the chopper before it takes off.''

''Forget it. If you go in, I go in. And since we're _not_ leaving Rudy in there with _him_...''

''He'll try to mess with your mind,'' Steve continued, ''probably worse than he's ever done before -''

''I'll deal with it.''

Steve hoped she could. Neither one of them was truly up to a full-strength bionic fight; they'd need to beat Kingsley with their wits...if they had any chance of beating him at all. Jaime had come so far in the last few days, in her sessions with Mark, but if Kingsley began hacking away at those painful, barely-starting-to-heal parts of her psyche (and Steve was sure that he _would_), could Jaime truly handle it? Would she be able to draw from her newly rediscovered sense of courage...or freeze and dissolve in a crumpled heap of tears and devastation? There was one other option. If Steve could get a clear line on Kingsley - if he wasn't using Rudy as a shield - he could zoom in with his eye, aim and take his best shot with Russ's weapon. There would only be one chance at that though. If Steve fired and missed (or only winged him), Kingsley would send them _all_ straight into the depths of Hell.

* * *

Nemesis looked out over the water, where the sun was just beginning to come up behind the crumbling Cobra coaster. ''Your friends should be here soon,'' he told Rudy (who merely looked at him with a blank, uncomprehending stare). It might have been fun to toy with the doctor - to make him feel terrorized the way his two 'rescuers' would feel - but Nemesis needed to count on Rudy's pre-programmed actions so he needed a blank slate...and there would be plenty of fireworks soon enough. Everything was in place and ready to go. He didn't care much for the expression _They didn't know what hit them_...because he fully intended for his quarries to feel every bit of the fury he was about to unleash - and to know _exactly_ who was doing this to them!

* * *

Michael had been up all night, working on a 'concussive compound' to be used as a last resort only, should Rudy need to be brought to his senses to get him out of there. It wasn't perfect but he hoped it would do the trick if it was necessary. In addition to regular weapons, Oscar and Russ were also each carrying a dart gun with the compound loaded inside. Michael had more in the medevac, in case Jaime, Steve or the others might be hit with the monster's mind control device. They were (hopefully) prepared for any eventuality. The medevac also carried spare power packs for both Jaime and Steve - and a full bionic Life Support system. Michael and Mark both carried with them the grim knowledge of how a psychopathic mind worked; there were no needs but his own...and what Grant Kingsley seemed to want and _need_ was to see pain, destruction and _**death**_.

* * *

''Mighty small spot to set down, Colonel,'' the pilot told Steve as the park came into view (and he spotted the instructed strip of grass between the coaster and the lake). ''I'll do my best.''

Steve eyed Jaime carefully. She was very pale but her eyes were clear and burning with determination (rather than fear). ''Are you sure about this, Sweetheart?'' he asked one last time. ''You can still change your mind.''

''I'm sure.''

''Then I want you to get off, draw him out so I can get a clear shot...and jump right back aboard,'' he reiterated.

''No. Let's get this over with. _Together._'' The skids were touching down now, the rotors slowing so they could get off. Jaime and Steve exchanged a long, loving gaze (drawing strength from each other) and one tender kiss...then stepped out onto the grass and moved resolutely away from the chopper which (as per instructions) took off immediately. They were alone in the park with a madman.

A speaker system that Nemesis had rigged to a portable generator screamed to life, with Kingsley's voice blaring at top volume from half a dozen directions at once.''Welcome! Now throw your radios in the lake and step toward The Cobra's loading platform. Do it _now_!''

They had no choice but to comply. As soon as the datacoms hit the water...the whole world seemed to explode around them! Smoke filled the early morning air and even if Steve had been able to pinpoint Kingsley's location (which, thanks to the speakers, he could not), there'd have been no way to get off a clear shot. It sounded like gunfire or dozens of tiny bombs going off in rapid-fire succession. The effect was disorienting.

Up in the chopper, the pilot opened the throttle all the way, believing he was being fired upon. ''We have gunfire on the ground!'' he radioed to the OSI helicopter. ''Gunfire and multiple explosions!''

''Squibs,'' Steve whispered to Jaime. ''It's only squibs.'' Except at the very same moment that the smoke began to clear, shrapnel or debris began flying up in chunks from the ground around their feet. He was _shooting _at them...deliberately missing in a blatant attempt to terrorize without actually injuring them! It worked. Steve felt Jaime freeze in place where she stood, still holding his hand. Steve tried to focus in on the loading platform but more squibs were going off now. It looked, sounded and even smelled exactly like the War Zone it had just become.


	44. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

Oscar cursed softly to himself and then again out loud. Gunfire? _Bombs_?! He'd expected that there'd be some sort of quiet negotiation first...or one fast shot straight to Kingsley's head...but that either way it might have ended quickly (even before he and Russ would arrive). Apparently, a quick, clean ending in their favor wasn't to be. He and Russ were already on their way to the park on foot but Oscar debated calling the OSI helicopter back, to get them there faster (since things had already escalated) but decided the element of surprise was still their best bet.

''Jack, what's the ETA for your teams?'' he transmitted to Hansen.

''Forty minutes to arrival in Octotillo, then we'll wait for your signal,'' came the answer.

''Make it thirty - or less. And be prepared to move right in,'' Oscar told him.

''Let us know.''

Oscar turned to Russ, who was already starting to limp more heavily. ''Maybe you should have the other shot now,'' he suggested.

''I'd rather wait until we get there - or at least until we're closer,'' Russ replied (trying to hide his grimace of pain). He figured he'd need every minute of numbness in his foot that he could possibly get, once they were inside the park.

* * *

Squibs and smoke bombs went off all around them and small chunks of concrete flew at Jaime and Steve from seemingly just below their feet as the gunfire (still purposely just missing them) peppered the ground. Jaime seemed paralyzed by the terror of it all, especially when Kingsley's voice came at them again from speakers at every angle.

''Permission to launch is granted,'' Nemesis taunted in a sick, sing-song voice. ''All passengers will now proceed to the loading platform.''

''He's not up there,'' Steve whispered (so only Jaime could hear), as his eye was barely able to discern the platform through the haze. ''You duck behind that facade and _stay there_. I'm going to find him...and end this.'' He took the gun from his waistband and cocked it.

''I'm staying with you,'' Jaime said very quietly, taking his arm and (finally unfrozen) stepping underneath the main section of The Cobra...and toward the loading platform.

''Put the gun away, Steve,'' Nemesis chortled. ''Remember - I can see you even when you can't see me!'' Maniacal laughter blasted at them through the speakers.

''Can you zero in on where his voice is really coming from?'' Steve whispered.

Jaime stopped to listen...and the speakers screamed at them again. ''I'd advise you to keep moving! Or my next shot won't miss!''

''I...can't tell,'' Jaime admitted quietly. The rotted wooden support beams over their heads sounded like they were falling to pieces, groaning in the wind and the chaos, as Jaime and Steve moved slowly and steadily until they reached the stairs of the platform.

''Very good,'' the speakers blared. Kingsley's voice was rising with excitement as everything was coming together for him, exactly as he'd envisioned. ''Now go up the steps to the back of the platform and you'll find two sets of handcuffs attached to the rail...one for each of _her _wrists.''

''_No way_,'' Steve murmured to himself (and to Jaime). ''I won't do it.''

''Once you've attached the little lady to the railing, I'll tell you where to find your Doctor Wells,'' Nemesis laughed.

''We'd better do what he says, Steve,'' Jaime said with a quivering voice.

''Forget it, Kingsley!'' Steve called loudly. ''Just come out and face me and let's get this over with!''

The next voice they heard over the speakers...was _Rudy_. ''Do what he says..._please_!'' Then they heard a loud THUD...and a groan of pain. Nemesis was playing with them, toying with their minds and emotions. He hadn't actually hurt his hostage; he didn't need to. Rudy's words and actions sprang forth like the automaton he had been turned into.

Jaime (involuntarily) gasped with fear...and Steve could feel her trembling as she clung to his arm. ''We have to do this...we have no choice...'' she said, starting up the stairs. They found the handcuffs exactly where Kingsley had told them they'd be. While Steve had hoped they'd be attached to the rotting wood (and thus easily breakable), they were linked through the metal bar that held the railing together.

''Maybe if you lean back against the bar and I don't fasten them all the way, he won't be able to tell the difference...'' Steve suggested, very softly.

''I can - and will - know the difference!'' their tormentor taunted. _He could hear them _as well as see them, Steve realized. Another THUD sounded loud and clear through the speakers, bringing Jaime to tears.

''Steve...get it over with,'' she insisted in a soft, frightened voice. To prove that she meant it, Jaime fastened the first cuff to her wrist herself. ''You... you're gonna have to...do the other one...'' she told Steve.

Steve didn't think he could bear it...but he had to. They both knew there was no other choice. He reached over and fastened Jaime's other wrist to the rail. ''Very good,'' Nemesis told them. ''Now go to the bottom of the lift hill, break off a nice length of the chain - I know you're capable; I've seen what you can do - and _secure _her to the bar. You'll find a nice, sturdy padlock on the ride's control panel.''

It was Steve's turn to freeze in place. He felt sick to his stomach at the mere thought of what he'd been told to do. ''Remember what you got in the kiosk, Steve?'' Nemesis laughed. ''And in the attic - courtesy of my boot? The good doctor will receive the same if you don't do _exactly _what I tell you! Now...which bone shall I break first...?''

''Steve, please...we...we _have _to do this!'' Jaime said, sobbing quietly. Rudy had given them both their lives; they couldn't allow him to be tortured the way they had been!

The speakers seemed to get even louder as they broadcast Rudy's voice again. ''Steve - please do what he says!'' the doctor pleaded, with another awful (and pre-programmed) groan of pain.

''I'll tell you where to find the doctor as soon as you fasten that lock,'' Nemesis instructed gleefully. ''Until then, for every five seconds you delay, I will _hurt _him again. One, two, three -''

''Just...do it...'' Jaime cried. "His heart!"

''Four...''

Steve stepped over to the lift hill and tore off a section of the thick, rusty chain. ''Very wise,'' their tormentor laughed. ''Now get the lock and finish the job. One...two...''

There was nothing they could do. For the moment, they were out of options. Steve grabbed the padlock and with tears in his own eyes, wrapped the chain around Jaime's waist. ''I'll be back for you,'' he mouthed so softly that Kingsley's microphones wouldn't pick up his words...but Jaime heard him and nodded. ''I love you,'' they both whispered. She knew how rough what was happening would be on him, so she held back her own emotions the best she could, to try and make it easier for him to go.

''Where is he, Kingsley?'' Steve demanded.

''Alright. You've earned it. Go to the Sweet Shoppe - or what's left of it - on Main Street by the hole in the fence. Wait there for further instructions.'' (That was clear on the other side of the park!) ''Colonel,'' Kingsley's voice said triumphantly, ''I suggest you _hurry!_''

Jaime waited until Steve was gone before she gave in to emotions she couldn't hold back any longer. She slumped against the cuffs and chain and sobbed...helpless and completely alone.

_She wasn't alone for long._


	45. Chapter 44

Chapter 44

''I knew you couldn't resist coming back to me,'' Nemesis hissed (like the snake he truly was). Jaime closed her eyes, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of her fright...or her tears. He stepped closer then leaned in...and kissed her cheek. ''I can _make _you open those eyes, you know...in any number of ways. Some of them, you might even enjoy...''

Jaime was on the very edge of losing herself entirely - dissolving into nothingness - but she refused to let it happen. _Turn your fear into something productive_, she heard Mark's voice telling her, _like __**anger**_. She heard Steve's voice too, somewhere in her mind. _I love you, Sweetheart. You're stronger than you think you are..._

''Open your eyes, Jaime,'' the head of Cobra hissed in her ear. He kissed her again - this time on the lips - and Jaime's eyes snapped open, blazing with fury. When he leaned in, sneering, to do it again...she bit him.

''_That_ was incredibly _**stupid**__!_'' he raged.

''Don't. Touch. Me!'' Jaime raged right back at him.

''Seems we've reached an impasse, then, you and I,'' Nemesis laughed. ''One of us is filled with..._wonderful _ideas...and the other can't do a damn thing about it!''

''I wouldn't bet on that...'' Jaime said evenly, without fear. He'd stolen enough of her life away, forcing her to live in terror every waking (and sleeping) moment. Now - when he so obviously intended to _take_ her life - she didn't intend to go down like a cowering victim. That last bit of satisfaction wouldn't belong to him; it would go to _her_!

* * *

Steve stood alone outside the Sweet Shoppe, fearing he'd been tricked. A deathly silence surrounded him; there weren't even any exploding squibs. Then a lone figure stepped out into the debris-scattered walkway, shrouded in shadows by the still-rising sun. ''I didn't think you'd come,'' the figure said, in a voice that sounded more like a robot than one of Steve's dearest friends. Rudy stared blankly at him and his hand held _a gun_!

''What did he do to you, Rudy?'' Steve asked in as steady a voice as he could manage, trying to _reach_ him. His own weapon was within easy reach and in a case of 'kill or be killed' there were very few people Steve would _not _shoot...but Rudy was one of them.

''Get down on your knees, Steve,'' the person-who-used-to-be-Rudy commanded.

''You worked so hard to give me my life back; you don't _want_ to take it away. I _know _you don't. You know it too.''

''Get down on your knees.'' Rudy cocked the weapon...then a tiny dart hit him squarely in the neck and he began to convulse.

Steve was stunned, certain it was another of Kingsley's games...but Oscar (followed closely by Russ) stepped through the hole in the fence. Russ took the gun from Rudy's hand, then removed his own jacket and placed it under the fallen doctor's head - while Oscar tended to Steve.

''You alright, Pal?'' he asked anxiously. ''Where's Jaime?''

''I'm okay...I think.'' Then a realization socked him in the gut. Kingsley hadn't stepped out of the shadows to enjoy what his 'device' had wrought. ''Oh God...that monster's got her! They're at The Cobra!'' Steve took off at his fastest pace ever, not feeling the pain in his arm or the agony that coursed through his ribcage. He was fueled not so much by bionics as by love. He _had _to get to her!

''Call in the medevac - and all the back-up teams!'' Oscar called over his shoulder to Russ as he took off after Steve. ''And stay with Rudy until help gets here!''

* * *

Nemesis stepped back and looked Jaime up and down with a leer that made his intention all too clear. Jaime knew she would rather die fighting him off than allow _that _to happen...and when he stepped even closer to her, she drew her head back and spit in his face. His hand balled into a fist and swung violently toward her but Jaime ducked, bent forward as far as the chain would allow - and head-butted him in the gut. Nemesis cursed wildly and grabbed her, his fingers digging painfully into her left arm...but the split-second it had taken him to catch his breath was all she'd needed to pull her right arm free, grasping the metal rail as she did so and swinging the piece that tore off at her tormentor.

Nemesis went sprawling across the dirty, rotted wood of the platform as Jaime first freed her other arm then broke the padlock and stepped away from the railing..._free_. She headed for the stairs but as the last of her strength was rapidly draining out of her, Nemesis was finding new energy from adrenaline and _anger_. He rose to his feet and dove toward Jaime, clutching her around the waist and pulling her to the ground as the wood cracked and began to buckle beneath them. He blocked her way, denying her attempt to retreat down the stairs.

Jaime looked to either side of the platform for another way out. Her strength was gone now; all she had left was a mighty determination to _live_. Most of the lift hill hung in pieces and the platform was about to collapse so she headed toward the only solid footing she could see...straight up the other side, up the steep hill to the roundabout (the long, high turn at the far end of the coaster). Her physical body was rapidly betraying her, forcing Jaime to pull herself up the hill with her right arm, propelled by both legs. Her bionics were all that were keeping her going as she climbed higher still...barely able to stay ahead of her pursuer. Her head was swimming and she could barely breathe, not so much from the height as from the strain on her still quite-weakened body. Nemesis flung himself forward (nearly cracking the wooden crossbeams that held the tracks beneath them), grasping her ankles and laughing as she struggled to kick him away.

Steve got there just as they'd almost reached the very top of the roundabout. He looked first toward the platform...and then he saw them, struggling for position - and for their very lives - at the top of the hill. He pulled his gun but couldn't get a clear shot as Jaime fought with her attacker, precariously close to the edge of the drop-off. They were twisting around each other, jockeying for position - and for a solid foothold. Any shot Steve might've taken stood as much chance of hitting Jaime as it did Kingsley. A bionic leap up to try and help her would destroy what remained of the distressed wooden supports and he could only watch in mute horror as they reached the midsection of the curve...and Kingsley tried to force Jaime over the edge. It was now or never - life or death - and Steve had to take his best shot.

Suddenly, several other shots rang out, seemingly at once, and Steve had to look away as a body sailed - headfirst - over the railing and almost 90 feet to the ground. When he looked up again, _Jaime _was still at the top of the turnaround, on her knees and clinging to the railing, completely and totally spent.

''Hang on, Sweetheart!'' he called to her (no longer needing to whisper). ''I'm coming up to get you!''


	46. Chapter 45

Chapter 45

''Steve, you can't go up there!'' Oscar told him. ''Your arm...you'll never make it.''

''Watch me!''

''The choppers will be here any minute; let one of them hover over and -''

''Look at her, Oscar! There's no way she could climb a rope ladder.'' Then Steve realized that Oscar could see Jaime as just a speck at the top of the turnaround. It was only with his eye that he saw how depleted she was...and how _frightened_. Whatever energy, emotional strength (and sheer adrenaline) she'd used to get up that hill was gone now and _she needed him_. But he also knew that Oscar was (at least partially) right. He might be able to get up there – to reach Jaime - but with the steepness of the incline (in either direction), he wasn't sure he could get her to the ground safely. ''Alright...tell you what,'' he suggested, ''I'll go up and stay with her until the chopper gets here. They can lower a basket and I'll get her secured so they can pull her up.''

''You might need the basket yourself, Pal, if you try this.''

''Like they say, we'll cross that bridge...'' he started up the platform steps before Oscar could order him not to. With only his right arm to grip the railing, Steve had to take the opposite side to the top, even steeper than the way Jaime had ascended. He couldn't feel his ribs anymore, as every fiber of his being concentrated on getting to Jaime. His eyes remained mostly downward, to avoid a misstep on the broken, crumbling tracks. But every few seconds he glanced up to check on her. Jaime was fully seated on the tracks now, her head leaning back against the rail. From what he could see, she was _very_ pale, trembling slightly...and not crying but simply staring off into space. For an awful split-second he wondered if Kingsley had zapped her with his infernal device...but this wasn't the blank stare he'd seen from Rudy or the Security guards. This was the look of someone who had been just been to hell and back, handling far more than she (or anyone) was equipped to handle. _She's in shock_, he realized. _That chopper better hurry._

Steve kept up a loving, reassuring patter for her to hear as he made his way up the hill - and every so often she blinked, seeming to hear him but otherwise not moving at all. When he finally reached the turnaround (and Jaime), he sank down beside her, as lightly as he could manage on the fragile boards...and wrapped his arm around her, holding her close. She buried her face in his shoulder...and finally allowed herself to cry.

''Is he..._dead_?'' she asked in a very small voice.

''I don't know, Sweetheart; I didn't stop long enough to find out. But from this height, probably yes.''

''I...killed him?''

''I think I did,'' Steve told her. But several guns had gone off...and apparently Jaime had pushed him. In any case, it didn't matter. Jaime summed it up best, for both of them.

''It's really...finally..._over_,'' she sighed, going limp against his chest just as the chopper fly in low to hover over their heads.

* * *

''She's in shock,'' Michael confirmed on the chopper, ''but this should help.'' He began giving Jaime oxygen and then a dose of coumadin (as a precaution). Steve received a pain shot but doggedly refused a gurney or even being propped up by cushions against the wall, insisting on remaining glued to Jaime's side. Slowly but surely, her breathing normalized and at least a little of the color returned to her face.

''Is Rudy...okay?'' was the first thing she wanted to know when her awareness returned and the mask was removed.

''He'll be fine,'' Mark Conrad assured her. ''He's in another chopper, but he's in no danger.'' Michael's concussive compound appeared to have worked as well for Rudy as Hansen's (more unorthodox) blow to Russ's head. The older doctor was also being treated for shock (and was quite confused about where he was and what had happened) but his heart rhythms had suffered no ill-effects from the compound hitting his system or from his ordeal.

''And...Kingsley?''

Steve reached over and tenderly brushed the hair from her face, weighing his words carefully. ''He won't hurt you anymore.''

The answer seemed to satisfy (and calm) her - for now - and Jaime closed her eyes and gave in to the sedative as Steve (still holding her hand) leaned back against his cushions and finally allowed himself to doze off too.

* * *

When everyone had arrived back at National, Hansen and Oscar were almost immediately at loggerheads - _again_. ''So what you're saying is we round up everyone who might have a blank look on their face...and give them all chemically-induced concussions? That's hardly ethical!'' Hansen fumed.

''And I suppose you have a better idea?'' Oscar asked pointedly.

''Isolate them all - I don't know, on a locked ward or something - and see if it wears off.''

''That's _so _much better than a few minutes of discomfort,'' Oscar argued.

''Goldman, what you're suggesting is that we turn a dozen people or more - some of them _my _people, I might add – into glorified lab rats!''

''I saw the compound work with my own eyes,'' Oscar insisted. ''You lock 'your people' up indefinitely, if it's what you feel you need to do...but the rest of Kingsley's victims will be getting Michael's compound. Now I'd like to go upstairs and check on my friends, Jack - so this discussion is _over_''

* * *

Russ was sitting up in bed, still in his street clothes with his foot elevated. He'd obviously not be going home that day anymore...but was only been kept another day or possibly two for observation. ''You did some excellent work today,'' Oscar told him, smiling broadly. He and Russ had each held one of the guns Steve heard firing at Kingsley. Since help had arrived almost as soon as Oscar had left Main Street to help Jaime and Steve, Russ had rapidly caught up to him. It didn't hit Oscar until the helicopter ride back that his young assistant (not 'former', if Oscar had his way) had never taken the second anesthetic shot to his foot. In his determination to help and to back-up his boss and friends, he'd run clear across the park on an injured foot. ''I'll recommend - without any doubt in my mind - that you be reinstated...if and when you feel ready, that is. You deserve some R & R first.''

''Thank you,'' Russ replied, shaking Oscar's hand. ''I think the best therapy for me will be to get back to my own desk...and to have you at yours; I don't envy you _your _job. Not in the least. But I've missed doing what I do...which is backing you up,'' he finished, meaning every word.

Rudy was awake but resting quietly, with Mark Conrad by his side. According to Michael, the older doctor had required no additional heart medicine (other than his standard regimen). He had asked only a few of the very briefest questions about what had happened; the rest would come in time...and Oscar could tell by his eyes that they finally had _Rudy _back.

Jaime was sleeping comfortably, with Michael taking just one more cautious look at her monitor readings. Steve was on his gurney beside her bed...but he wasn't sleeping. He had a slight but radiant smile as he watched Jaime (finally) looking so peaceful. For the first time in a very long time, she was actually smiling as she slept. Michael administered one more dose of her coumadin and the three men moved out into the hallway to talk.

''Steve, my understanding is that you told Jaime she should stay here,'' Oscar said quietly.

''Yeah, well...when I got upstairs to the chopper, she was already in it...and she wouldn't budge. I don't think the President himself could've made her get out.''

''You're forgetting I can _hear you_'' Jaime called from the bed (not asleep, after all). ''And I'll confirm what he said; there was no way I was gonna get out of that chopper. So Steve was right.''

''_What _did you say there, Jaime?'' Steve teased. ''Couldn't quite hear you!''

''Steve. Was. Right. Better mark your calendars: doesn't happen all that often!''

Jaime laughed...and Steve had to chuckle too. She'd have more work to do with Mark Conrad. (Fact was, they both would.) But they would get through that the best way for either/both of them: _together_


	47. Chapter 46

Chapter 46

The top men from the OSI and the NSB held a quiet (for them) conference in Russ's hospital room, including him at Oscar's insistence. (''He's more than earned his place back, in my eyes,'' Oscar had told Hansen.)

''Everyone is doing as well as can be expected,'' Oscar reported, ''and some even better. Except Kingsley, of course.''

''Would've been nice to make him face Justice,'' Hansen grumbled.

''Well, I'm _glad _he's dead,'' Steve offered. ''Especially for Jaime's sake. Saves her having to testify at a trial...and she knows she's finally safe. It'll be a long enough road back for her without having to wonder if he'd somehow slither outta prison and come at her again.''

''How'd she make it up that hill?'' Russ pondered aloud. ''For that matter...how did _you_?'' he asked Steve.

''Same way you made it across the park on that foot,'' Steve answered. ''Determination.''

''Climbing that hill wasn't her brightest idea,'' Hansen scoffed. ''She could've just gone over the railing on the other side of the platform.''

''From fifteen or twenty feet up, straight into a lake?'' Steve argued. (He wondered if his promise to Oscar from a few days earlier - not to _punch_ Hansen - still held.) ''When she was traumatized and still not recovered from...everything else? Next time, Mr. Hansen, let's put _you_ up against a homicidal monster and see how well _you _make decisions!''

''She got away from him long enough to help save her own life,'' Oscar summarized, closing the argument. ''That's what tells me Jaime would still make a fine operative if -''

''Oscar!'' Steve cut in. ''It's too soon to even think about that!''

''_If_ and _when_ she decides it's still what she wants to do,'' Oscar finished.

* * *

Down the hall in her bed, Jaime was _finally_ truly asleep...and dreaming. She saw Kingsley's face leering at her as they reached the crest of the roundabout. There had been no words; only the grim knowledge that at least one of them wouldn't be reaching the ground alive. They'd wrestled for control, with Kingsley finding a new reserve of strength just as Jaime felt the last of what had helped her to pull herself this far draining away. She was going to lose! He had her partially over the railing, far enough that she could see the ground looming up at her from so far below them. The expression about an entire life passing before your eyes didn't hold true (there simply wasn't time) and yet that one moment seemed to go on forever. At the last possible second, she kicked out one more time, loosening his grip on her as she attempted to send him backward over the edge of the tracks. Instead, he lunged at her again and she ducked out of the way and her right hand gripped the rail as she used her left (and his own momentum) as a sort of fulcrum, spinning his body up and over the bar and sending him - and _not_ herself - plunging toward the waiting ground. Strangely, she felt nothing as she sank down onto the slatted tracks. (Was she..._dead_?) The next thing she felt was Steve's loving embrace, pulling her back from her own personal hell and letting her know that she was still alive...and she was _safe_.

* * *

Rudy was beginning to absorb the fact that - through him - Kingsley had attempted to murder both of the people he'd thought of for years as 'his kids'. _Evil _truly knew no bounds. He accepted the fact (reiterated again by Mark Conrad) that he had been merely an instrument in the hands of that evil...but would Jaime and Steve accept that too? Mark quietly took Rudy's hands and held them up in front of his face, where the older doctor could look at them.

''These are _healing_ hands,'' Mark told him. ''Life-giving hands. They always have been...and they always will be.''

* * *

''Speaking of saving her own life,'' Hansen pondered, ''what actually killed him? Was it a gunshot...or the fall? Do we know?''

Steve wondered privately if the man ever had anything intelligent to say - or if he'd been put on this Earth solely to push everyone's buttons. There would be an autopsy, of course, but for Steve the answer was immaterial. Everything was as it should be. Jaime was still _here_...and so was he. The love that had kept them alive would be able to slowly nurture them back to health. In a way, that was the greatest _Justice_ of all - the world full of love and hope for the future that he and Jaime shared and that Kingsley had tried so hard to destroy was upright and spinning properly on its axis once again.

* * *

Steve and Mark had both returned to Jaime's side by the time she roused naturally from her sleep. This time, it was with a tentative smile rather than screaming or even tears. For Steve, there was no sight in the world more beautiful (and hopeful) than this! ''Hi there,'' he said softly in a voice nearly overcome with emotion.

''Hi...'' she managed. Jaime's body may have been very, very weak...but her spirit had never been stronger. Her eyes found Steve's and dove into them in a long, loving (life-affirming) gaze. With one more careful glance at the monitors first, Mark quietly left the room, to give the two of them the chance to begin to heal each other.


	48. Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Steve stared pensively out at the water rippling on the lake behind National, lost in his own thoughts. He didn't notice Mark Conrad walking up to stand quietly beside him - until the doctor extended an open palm toward him, displaying a shiny new nickel.

''For your thoughts...'' Mark told him. ''I'm guessing they're worth more than a penny.''

''Is she gonna be alright, Doc? I mean..._really _alright?'' Steve picked up a stone and skimmed it out across the water. It had been several days since their final showdown with the head of Cobra and while Jaime was growing stronger every day (no longer needing the monitors and beginning to venture out of bed under Michael's watchful guidance), Steve couldn't help noticing the haunted look in her eyes.

Mark saw the same look from Steve as he stood there, still staring out into the lake. ''It's going to take time...for _both_ of you,'' he said quietly. In truth, at that moment Mark was more worried about Steve than he was about Jaime. Jaime was at least talking about what had happened, slowly bringing it all into the open where she could begin to sort through it. Steve remained by her side, giving her Jaime strength she could draw upon - but without any thought or even acknowledgment of the pain he might be feeling himself. ''What about you, Steve?'' he asked. ''You're doing great at being there for Jaime...but how are _you_ doing with...all of this?''

''Oh...I'm okay, Doc.''

''Why am I not convinced?'' Mark probed. Steve didn't answer him. ''If you're not comfortable talking about this with Jaime yet, we can meet privately in your room - because you _do_ have your own room, you know - but you need to start getting this out. Otherwise it'll fester inside of you.''

''Maybe...it already has,'' Steve admitted. ''Help me get rid of it, Doc?''

_Finally,_ Mark thought, _there it is!_ ''You just took the first step...in helping yourself.''

* * *

There was someone else who needed Mark's attention - and was as loath to admit it as Steve had been. ''How are they doing?'' Oscar asked, knowing that the PTSD doctor had just finished his rounds of the Third floor.

''This time, let's talk about _you_,'' Mark suggested. ''Are you sleeping okay?''

Oscar smiled. ''Not very subtle, Doctor Conrad.''

''I don't get paid to be subtle. I get paid to poke, prod, pester and probe right to the heart of everything and everyone. Including you. What's been keeping you awake at night, Oscar?''

''It's that obvious?''

''Not until you just admitted it. So let's talk.''

"I tell my operatives all the time to never second guess themselves - but I never realized before this happened just how easy it is to do that."

"Beating yourself up over a decision, when it's the very best you can do at the time with the information you have available, is counter-productive. And it can't change anything. But what _would _you change...if you could?"

"I might have sent the support teams to the park by chopper, so they could have been available sooner."

"And with the explosives they found that Kingsley never set off, you'd all have most likely been killed."

"I could've flown straight to the parking lot with Russ and gotten to Jaime and Steve a lot sooner than we did," Oscar said thoughtfully.

"And all four of you - plus Rudy, of course - would probably have gone out of that park in body bags. Anything else?"

"Not at the moment," Oscar said (with his most iconic, lopsided grin). "But I'd imagine we'll be talking again soon."

"Count on it," Mark promised.

* * *

''Marvin Gardens, 3 houses...$850 - hand it over!'' Jaime giggled.

''You warned me she was a shark,'' Mark groused, handing Jaime the cash.

_Shark...teeth...__**bite**__...Kingsley_...Jaime's mind told her in succession to rapid to really process. But both men saw her eyes go dark.

''Sweetheart...?'' Steve began gently.

Jaime threw the dice, landed on Reading and handed Steve...a whopping $25. ''What I still don't understand...is _why_...''

''Kingsley and Rudy were on equal footing when they were in Austria together,'' Mark told her. ''They both had nothing more than an idea in their heads. Rudy took his idea, bionics, ran with it - and became what he is today. Kingsley never found the same success or respect from others that his college friend was receiving and it ate away at him...until he felt he _had _to prove - to himself and everyone around him - that his 'idea' was the better of the two.''

''I guess...I understand that,'' she said (handing Steve the dice). ''But...why _us_?''

''Because he had to come out on top - and that meant not only proving his 'invention' worked, but destroying everything Rudy had achieved too...including (and especially) the two of us,'' Steve fielded, finally tossing the dice.

''But...he could've just..._killed _us...instead of what he did...''

''His cruelty came out of several personality disorders all meshing together to the point that he could only find joy in hurting others, as badly as he could,'' Mark answered.

''Scary stuff,'' Steve acknowledged, looking toward Mark, who nodded. The doctor had been encouraging him (over the last two days, when they'd finally been working together) to let Jaime know how he felt...and Steve was finally ready to do that. But first, he handed her the last of his money. ''I'm out,'' he conceded. ''I think the worst part...for me...was seeing you up there on that curve, fighting him off - and there wasn't a damn thing I could do to help you.''

''You...saw that?'' She had known that Steve had taken a shot at Kingsley, but hadn't been aware of how much he had seen...or how badly it was hurting him.

''Yeah. And I - I'm so sorry I couldn't do more to help you.''

''But...you did!'' Jaime insisted. ''I heard you say that you were coming up to get me...and I heard you talking to me while you climbed the hill...and I knew...I knew I was still alive...and I waited for you! Otherwise...I might've fallen off the tracks!''

It was his turn (and Mark held the dice in his hand) but the game could wait. ''Your bionics probably make you both feel invincible at times, so helplessness would hit you especially hard.''

''Yeah...it did,'' Steve agreed. (And this time, Jaime reached out to hold _his_ hand.)

''But you helped each other survive. And you'll go right on helping each other; I understand you're going home tomorrow.'' Mark would be checking in with them twice a day - morning and night - for the foreseeable future and they'd be getting regular visits from Michael and (when he was ready) from Rudy, as well. But they'd _both _finally reached the point where the very best medicine was simply...each other.


	49. Chapter 48

Chapter 48

''You 'clean up' pretty nicely, Colonel,'' Jaime told Steve with an appreciative glance. He was in his street clothes, having been released from the hospital (although everyone knew he wasn't going home without Jaime).

''It'll be your turn pretty soon,'' he told her.

''_Home _is a wonderful word, isn't it?''

''Almost as great as _free_...and _**alive**_.''

''So what do we do with ourselves when there's nobody around but 'us'?'' Jaime teased. ''No security guards...no doctors or nurses...just _us_...''

Steve grinned. ''I'm sure we'll fill the time somehow - 'til Oscar calls us again.''

''Well, 'til he calls _you_, anyway...''

''It's not such a great honor - believe me!'' Steve answered.

''Still...it's what we were 'made' for...isn't it?''

''Jaime, if that's the only reason you wanna be an operative, you're really better off taking the retirement they've offered you. Those don't come along too often without any strings attached.''

''That's not the only reason,'' Jaime insisted. ''But it seems like every time I come close to getting reinstated...something happens.''

''Maybe you should concentrate on getting out of the hospital first, before you think about asking Oscar to let you endanger your life on a regular basis...''

* * *

''She wants to come back to work,'' Steve told Oscar flatly (without a trace of enthusiasm).

''I figured she would.''

''I don't s'pose you'd consider just telling her 'no' - that she's not cut out for it, huh?''

''Pal, you and I both know she'll see that as a challenge...''

* * *

''So...what do you see yourself doing, when they finally evict you from this place?'' Mark probed. ''Have you and Steve set a date yet?''

''Well...we were talking about next Summer, maybe the Fourth of July...but now I'm thinking we should cancel that.''

''Cancel the wedding?'' Mark puzzled. (If anything, their recent experiences seemed to have drawn them even closer.)

''No...just the date. I think I'd like to push it up - a lot. We've already lost _years_ together, thanks to my Swiss cheese of a memory...and now we almost had _everything_ taken away from us. So I don't think a big fancy wedding is as important as just being _together_.''

''Would you feel the same way if this hadn't happened to you?''

''Yes. I...don't know,'' she admitted. ''But I _love _him - and we're planning a wedding either way. I've just realized - finally - the part that's really important. I mean, I knew it all along, but...''

Mark nodded. ''I understand.''

''And this way, if something happens to either one of us when we're out in the field -''

''Whoa; back it up there! Who said anything about going 'back in the field?''

''_I did_.'' Jaime told him.

''How about 'one step at a time', then?'' the doctor suggested. ''_Baby steps_, when necessary. Not everything has to be a huge bionic leap, you know. Have you approached Oscar with this?''

''Not exactly; not yet. But I will.''

''I don't mean to throw a blanket on your enthusiasm,'' Mark told her, ''but think about this. What if you accept a mission - and someone pulls a weapon? Can you handle that?''

In spite of Jaime's reassurances, Mark wasn't certain that she _could_.

* * *

Russ knocked on the door to Rudy's office (that seemed to have become an OSI-Los Angeles satellite office). ''The Coroner's report on the Kingsley case,'' he said, handing a yellow envelope to Oscar. It had taken longer than expected, between ballistics and trajectory tests, the autopsy itself and good old-fashioned inter-agency foot-dragging...but they were finally going to know what (and who) had killed Grant Kingsley. The fall alone could almost certainly have done it - but had a bullet killed him even before Jaime sent him over the railing...and from whose gun? Oscar scanned quickly through the report to the results at the bottom and then passed it to Steve.

* * *

''I've faced worse than a gun now,'' Jaime pointed out.

''Yes, you have,'' Mark agreed. ''Which tells _me_ you need some time off - a vacation, maybe - _not _an assignment.''

''I need to be useful. And I need to prove something to myself...that I can still handle it.''

''I think you've proved that already.''

''Well then, what's the problem?''

Mark could definitely understand why Steve called her stubborn! ''The problem is that you're pushing yourself too hard. You're expecting too much, too soon. You're going home in a couple more days; that doesn't mean you're miraculously 'whole' again. Give yourself the gift of _patience_...and time.''

''For someone who doesn't wanna throw a blanket on my enthusiasm...''

''Just don't try to take a flying bionic leap straight back into the thick of things; that's all I'm saying. Go home in a few days, relax and enjoy some downtime with Steve, talk it all through together - and see where things stand after that. There's no need to rush.''

* * *

Steve read the report slowly, taking in every detail and what it all meant. Three bullets had hit Kingsley - one from each gun - in the shoulder, the lower abdomen and the hip. He'd more than likely have died from blood loss rather quickly...but it was the fall that had killed him. Steve blinked slowly but the results were still there at the bottom of the page.

''What do we tell Jaime?'' he said, very quietly.


	50. Epilogue

Epilogue

Steve stood at the backdoor with a bemused grin on his face, watching Jaime dancing through her backyard. Even the rain didn't dampen her enthusiasm at finally being _home_; instead, it seemed she was catching raindrops on her tongue. Steve had loved her for as long as he could remember but never more than he did at that very moment.

''Just remember to be patient with her - _and_ with yourself,'' Mark reminded him one more time before turning to go. ''I'll call you tonight - and stop by to see you tomorrow - but if you need anything at all -'' Jaime hadn't asked either of them yet about the Coroner's report, but both men knew that once she found out what it contained (the conclusion that the fall had killed Kingsley, and not the gunshots), she would likely need a _lot_ of help to process that. For now, though, she was simply _happy _out there in the rain...and that made both her fiance and her doctor happy too.

''Thanks, Doc,'' Steve told him. The two men shook hands and then Mark was gone...and Jaime and Steve were finally _alone_. Steve pulled his jacket back over his shoulders (to keep the full-arm cast dry) and headed out to join her but Jaime met him halfway.

She wrapped her arms around him very carefully - and he used his right to pull her closer. ''I'm not gonna break, you know,'' he said.

''You already did; we both did,'' Jaime said pensively, her eyes beginning to drift away.

Steve brought her back with a kiss. ''We're not broken; just had to spend a little time in the Parts Department,'' he joked.

''And they don't...hurt?''

''I'll make you a deal,'' Steve proposed. ''I promise to let you know when they hurt. Better yet, I'll take those little white pills when I'm supposed to, like a good boy, so they don't hurt...and _you_-''

''...will still ask you about them,'' Jaime concluded (seeming to read his mind). ''No deal, Colonel.'' She looked up into his eyes...and melted against him. Every bit of longing and need they'd had to suppress during their too-long stays at National ignited all at once into a blaze of desire as they held each other in the rain. ''We should...get out of these wet clothes,'' Jaime suggested, her breath catching in her throat at the very thought.

Steve smiled and after one more long, deep kiss (to really light the fire), led her inside. He had pulled Jaime 'back' with just a kiss this time; he knew there'd be times it would take much more than that...and sometimes she'd need to pull him 'back' too. The important thing was that they were _alive_. They were _home_ too - 'home' being their rightful place in each other's arms. They might have to take three steps forward, two steps back for awhile...but they would take those steps _together_.


End file.
